Birds of a Feather
by luckyirishtart
Summary: He drives her mad. She frustrates him to no end. How did they let it get this far? If you truly love someone, is it always worth fighting for? ExB AH
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer:**__ Anything remotely resembling Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer. Any of the stories within, belong to me. Please do not copy or translate without permission._

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_**Birds of a Feather**_

_**Chapter One**_

_**BPOV**_

It never failed that when I'd just about mastered something, I'd usually get thrown for a loop. The jingle of the bell on the front door caught my attention as I was trying to perfect the line on my upper lid. Through watery eyes, I peered at my reflection in the mirror of the dimly lit bathroom, cringed when I spotted the crooked black smudge, and cursed the interruption under my breath.

I gave a quick glance out to the main sales floor; a kid—maybe fifteen, sixteen tops—browsed the selection of new and used guitars hanging on the walls.

"Be right there," I shouted.

He nodded, but I could tell he wasn't ready for the sales shtick yet, so I turned back to the mirror and tried to fix my flub.

Not well-versed in full makeup application quite yet, my honest attempt to look more than presentable for tonight was definitely not going to happen. I grabbed a hunk of tissue and scrubbed away the black around my eyes, and instead went for tried-and-true with heavy mascara instead.

The girls could give me all the shit they wanted—while I fully admitted my appearance lately had been teetering on slacker chic, the mint green vintage shirtwaist dress was at least a step up, and my boots weren't scuffed. I was quite proud of my consignment shop finds.

Win/win, really.

I reached up to tousle my freshly cut bangs, tried to convince myself I was used to them, and shoved the contents of my makeup bag back into my purse.

"What can I do you for?"

The kid looked up. "Just lookin'. These are pretty sweet."

He ran the tips of his fingers over a 70's Standard Gibson SG Vintage, and I had to agree with him.

He continued to wander around dreamily while I glanced at the clock on the wall and took my place behind the counter. In spite of having everything ready to close up shop before I'd begun the process of getting ready, I was going to be late. "Anything you're looking for in particular?"

"Uh, no, ma'am. I don't have any money right now. But I will here soon. Been workin' a job for my uncle and I'm fixin' to get paid next week."

The look on his face was familiar—there'd been a time when I, too, was hungry about guitars. Heck, I still was—every time a new one crossed the threshold of the store, a thrill to make it sing made my fingers twitch. Each piece had a unique sound all its own, its own voice.

"What's your name?"

"Riley."

"Well, Riley, I do need to close up shop, but why don't you come back tomorrow and we can talk more about what you're looking for?"

"Oh, okay, sorry."

"No big." I smiled so he'd know I wasn't just being ornery and kicking him out, and nodded to the clock. "Just quittin' time for me, and I have somewhere I need to be. But you come see me tomorrow, okay? You tell me what you've got to work with and I'll find you a good guitar."

The smile he gave me was shy and sweet, and I waved at him when he shoved his hands in his pocket and exited the store.

With the closed sign in the window and the door locked, I dropped the cash in the safe, gathered my things, and booked it out the back way. My car was a few blocks down the street, a move I'd earlier considered smart because it'd be closer to where I needed it later, but now I wished I didn't have to walk.

"Suck it up, buttercup," I muttered, cutting through the lot for a shortcut.

The walk was good, though. It cleared my head and allowed me a chance to get myself psyched up. Music streamed from open windows and doors; old country, new country, the occasional crossover rock. People passed by in their weekend best, all denim and glitz the way only Nashville could pull off. I breathed in the smell of warm pavement and stale beer, found home in the neon lights humming in the night air overhead.

Lifting my guitar case here and there, I tried to dodge bodies spilling onto the pavement, and was doing damn good until a bulky, hairy fella bumped into me without an apology. I huffed and said a few choice words to him, wondering why his mama didn't teach him any manners.

From one of the doorways a tune caught my ear that instantly slowed my pace. I would have stopped if I hadn't been saddled with other plans. The sound was new country but with a thread of folk, something that piqued my interest—so honest and _familiar_ that even in the warm evening air, I shuddered.

And then I was where I was supposed to be. I turned at the tiny alley and headed around back, nodding a few greetings at the customers hovering in the smoking area. This was one of the older venues, worn brick façade a landmark here on Music Row.

"Hey, Bella."

I paused in the doorway. "Hey, Austin. How're you?"

He rambled on about being glad about the weekend, already a bit tipsy if the easy smile and half empty Busch bottle was any indicator, and I had to cut him off eventually because I knew the girls would have my ass for being late.

"Enjoy the show," I said as I headed inside.

The back hallway wasn't crowded, at least, and I passed picture lined walls on the way toward the 'green room'—so named because it was a dusty, sage green color. The inside was actually the locker room/lounge where acts waited before it was their turn to hit the stage.

"Jesus, cut it any closer?"

I glanced over at the stage and saw the last act was just finishing. "Plenty of time. Besides, perfection can't be rushed." I brushed by her and continued to my destination. "Do I have time to put my things away, oh keeper of the time?"

Alice, pretty tonight in a black floral dress and leggings, looked up from her phone when we entered the green room. "See, I told you she wouldn't be late, Rose."

"This is why you're my favorite," I said, setting my things down.

My guitar, battered but still a beautiful thing in my eyes, lay snugly in her case, all honey wood and vintage rose motif. She'd been through the gauntlet with me, and I wouldn't trade her for the world.

"Why are you late this time?" Rose crossed her arms and leaned against the door frame.

I rolled my eyes at Alice. "I worked a few hours extra at the store today and I was running behind. Chill, okay? I'm here, we're good, and this is just a casual thing. You know, friends playing for a small crowd?"

"Well, you should have called."

Something in Rose's tone finally settled in, and I straightened with the feeling I was missing something. "What's up with you?"

I looked up into the steel blue eyes of my friend, at her lips pursed in a small tight line. Her eyes shifted toward the other side of the room. "Nothing."

Well, two could play the denial game. "Uh huh. I guess we'd better get moving."

The crowd was pretty good for a Thursday night. We took our places seated on the small riser, getting ourselves in order before we started the set. Alice looked at me and said, "Okay, I can't keep it from you any longer."

I laughed. "What, pray tell, is so damn important?"

"Rumor has it there might be a few guys from an indie label stopping by."

"Oh?"

I'd heard it all before. _There's gonna be an exec here. They want to hear our stuff._ Yeah, it'd be nice to get noticed, but all I really wanted to do was just play. It was the only time I could completely lose myself, to let go and be who I really was.

"Just . . . be nice." Alice looked nervous, and I wondered if this rumor had a little more meat to it than usual.

"I'm always nice," I shot back.

Alice looked at Rose who smirked at me.

"No, you're not."

That was the truth, I guessed—well . . . some of the time. I tended to let my frustrations show more often, especially lately because I had little control over them these days. It had gotten somewhat better; I just didn't know how to change when my insides were still so raw.

There were days when I still felt like I was being held together with Bandaids, and not the good kind, either.

Best not think on that just now. I slung my strap over my head and strummed a few bars on my guitar. "Well, what's taking you guys so long? Let's do this."

The owner of the bar gave his introduction spiel to the crowd, but because we were a something of a house favorite, the intro didn't last long. A good crowd was already left up front from the last act, the scant tables full and the area in front of the stage more so. The clusters of folks around the bar were facing our way, too, for the most part, a scrum of bodies in an already crowded space.

The lights dropped and the atmosphere became more intimate for our set, just the way we liked it. Rose and I took our respective seats on stools, Alice standing between us.

I pulled the mic closer to my mouth. "I want to thank you for coming tonight. Always love a good crowd." I flipped my hair over my shoulder. "Hope we do ya proud."

A few whoops and a smattering of applause followed. I smiled and turned to the girls and quietly counted us into our opening song.

It was one of my favorites, something light and airy that always got us off to a good foot with any crowd. We tended to work up to our heavier stuff, liking the atmosphere to build to a crescendo and leave our mark that way.

_Some glad morning when this life is o'er,__  
I'll fly away_

And then we were off, and it was good. The crowd was responsive; any time I chanced a glance up, I saw that the ladies that sang along and the men tipped their beers. But I liked to look down when I sang live, so that's mostly what I did.

It was a weird feeling to see people's reactions to your words, and this past year had bestowed a lot of angst into my lyrics. Some of our songs were personal, but written in a way so anyone could relate . . . and others were harder to put out into the universe for judgment. Rose got on me all the time about not 'connecting with the audience', and she worked a little harder at it to balance, but I wasn't there yet.

I was working on it, though.

At one point during one of our newest tracks—one that I still wasn't sure if I was comfortable sharing—I chanced a look up to see how people were reacting, and my eyes landed on a couple off to the side.

He had his arms wrapped around her from behind, gently tapping his hand on her hip to the beat. She smiled and swayed while he peppered her hair with kisses, and it hurt to remember how it felt to be so in love. The thought was wrenching, and I wasn't able to hide it. It was there in that moment and my voice opened into a deeper sound, revealing more emotion than I wanted.

Going with it, I poured out my feelings, confessing my hurt to the crowd of strangers who'd never know it was confession time.

At one point the nerves on my skin tingled—the euphoria of getting it out like I hadn't been able to was palpable. Alice looked my way and smiled sadly, glad I'd hit my groove, and clearly understanding of what it'd cost.

"This is our last one for y'all," I said later, smiling because I felt a little bit freer than I had when I'd started. "Thanks for bein' so good to us tonight, and have a good rest of your evening."

The applause was raucous, and it made me smile wider. For whatever reason, this was our moment—it felt right to me. I looked over to Alice who was beaming from ear to ear as she played her fiddle with grace; Rose was on fire, her backup vocals so crucial to our sound, showmanship on par with the best tonight. Whoever the girls had brought in to watch us, they'd better be damn impressed. We were killing it.

When we'd finished and the lights came up, I turned to put my guitar down, thankful I could catch my breath. Reaching for a glass of water that Mel had placed on the table behind us, I swiveled in my seat to ask Alice a question, but she'd already lit into the crowd.

"That was a helluva show, ladies."

I smiled at Austin and thanked him for his praise, laughing a little when he got so animated he did a drunken shuffle in front of the stage.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," I said, looking over at Rose. "Good thing I wasn't too late, huh?"

"Oh, hush up and help me get our stuff. Alice took off like she was was fixin' to hurt someone, and she left us to pick up."

I sniggered. "Well, isn't that just typical."

A few more people stopped by to offer praise and congratulations on a good show while we were on the stage, and Rose and I thanked them generously, or just stopped to chat with people we recognized from playing here so often. Normally I wasn't much of one for socializing, but tonight had been great, and my energy was so infused that I took my fair share of the talking over. Rose hovered at my side, though, glancing anxiously into the crowd often.

"You that worked up?" I whispered at one point. For her to be so twitchy was off-putting, and I began to really believe there might be someone important watching us. "Don't be. We were damn good tonight, and that's the truth."

"I'm just looking for Alice. I don't know what's taking her so long."

I peered over her shoulder and scanned the room. "Hey, there she . . ."

My words trailed off into nothing when I spotted her, _and_ who she was with. She stood beside a blond guy, her hand on his arm as she spoke to him. It only took me a second to figure out that it was Jasper.

If he was here, then . . .

Despite the lights and closeness of the people around me, a rush of frost bathed my skin. Suddenly all of the good feelings from just moment before were replaced with dread, and my fingers tingled with numbness.

"Is he . . .?"

Rose stood frozen next to me, a tentative look on her face. "Well, we knew you wouldn't agree to play if you knew."

The initial shock melted at her words, anger replacing it now. I looked to the right of Jasper and I saw his companion-tall and lean, body turned as he talked to a small blond and her friend.

Of course.

I'd know that man anywhere. In fact, I knew him better than anyone in this room.

"Don't, Bella. Please, just listen."

Giving her a death stare, I stood up, grabbed my guitar and backed away from my stool.

I'd been fucking set up.

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_New story, a little different than the others. Went back to the music theme because I love and appreciate it so much. Hope you enjoy._

_Song - I'll Fly Away – Alison Krauss and Gillian Welch_

_And many thanks, hugs and love to nic, who knows my brain better than I do._


	2. Chapter 2

_**Disclaimer:**__ They are hers. This is mine._

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_**Birds of a Feather**_

_**Chapter Two**_

_**BPOV**_

Having been friends with Rose for so long, I knew her tells—a fidgety hand at her side, an expression of wariness, the inability to look me in the eye. All of it combined told me what I'd needed to know, and none of it helped ease my anger.

I hated being ambushed, and she was aware of that. They'd done it to me before, she and Alice, thinking I needed to be pushed into one thing or another that I didn't want to do, and it ended the same every time: an argument, a few days of silence, the eventual rolling over when my annoyance melted away and I realized they weren't trying to be assholes.

Tonight, though, they'd stepped my one definite line.

The din of conversation and clinking of glassware certainly came in handy. No one else needed to hear our words. I stepped deeper into the shadows of the stage, dragging her along with me.

"What the hell were you thinking?" I hissed at her.

"I was thinking this could be a stepping stone for us."

"Yeah, and what a _perfect _situation that would be. Highly conducive to a good time for all." I brushed past her and grabbed my guitar and left the rest for them to get. I wouldn't feel bad about leaving them with the lion's share of hauling—I'd had enough. "I'm out."

"Bella, wait."

But I didn't. Making a bee-line for the dressing room, I kept my head down and booked it for the back. Emotions too volatile to think about churned on the inside, and I ended up dodging a few more kind patrons who were only trying to congratulate me. My tight-lipped smile probably didn't go over well.

Which was, of course, just perfect. The night had gone from high to low like a frightening rollercoaster, so I might as well just crash and burn in all aspects.

Once I ran the gauntlet, I stormed into the back room, grabbed my guitar case, plunked it on the table and shoved my guitar inside. Pain shot through my ring finger when I latched the clasps shutting the thing, and I shook out my finger with a howl of frustration. Great. I'd torn a fucking nail.

Tears of frustration sprang to my eyes, and I bowed my head and told myself to get a grip. A full-blown tantrum was not something to be had in public, and if my mama was here she would tan my hide for showing my ass to the world. I was in the middle of a trying to calm myself down when a pressure on my arm made me jump.

"Hey. Hey, are you crying?"

I held up my finger to Rose, suddenly sad it was the ring and not the middle. "Even though you've done me physical damage, no, I'm not crying."

She huffed. "You did that to yourself.

"Whatever. I'm leaving, so I'll talk to you . . . soon."

"Listen to me before you've got a good mad cooked up." When I crossed my arms, she rolled on ahead. "They're back in town looking for new indie acts to add to their label. They know we're serious about this we are and they want us. What's wrong with trying to do something with that?"

"Oh, that's just golden. And, please, you know what's wrong. You knew he was coming, and what pisses me off the most is that you _both _lied to me about it."

She threw up her hands. "I didn't know he was coming until he showed up. I thought it was just going to be Jasper. And, besides, we didn't lie—someone from a label _did_ come to see us. I just . . . didn't tell you who."

"Just Jasper." Scoffing because what a load of malarkey that was, I picked up my bag and slung it over my shoulder and grabbed my guitar case. "Right. You know, I was doing okay, finally. And then you spring this on me? Thanks a lot."

The embarrassment and pity in her eyes for me only served to fuel my ire. Without another word I left the green room and made my way to the back entrance. Alice was still out there being a social butterfly, and I didn't bother finding her to say goodbye when I could already guess where she would be—she'd figure out eventually, if she hadn't already, that the plan had backfired.

Early as it was for a Thursday night, the parking lot was still lively and I got stopped a few times on the way to my car. Earlier I'd thought it great to be parked so close, and I wasn't wrong—my car in sight meant a quick getaway once I nodded thanks and wished the revelers a fun evening.

Too bad I hadn't thought to locate my keys before hand, though. I set down my case because my purse was a black hole of epic proportions. Past a memo pad, through the hairbrush and makeup bag, over the phone and headphones . . . "To grandmother's house we go," I muttered.

Why I'd felt it necessary to bring this much shit was beyond me.

"Finally," I said when my fingers touched cool metal.

Maybe it was the shifting of cloth against cloth, or maybe I heard the steps, or maybe my body really did know his and all that romance book mumbo-jumbo was right, but I knew he was there before a throat cleared behind me. I closed my eyes and cursed my bad luck.

"Need some help?"

That voice, both smooth and cautious, and one I'd heard pitched from the softest whispers to the loudest shouts, lulled me momentarily into the falsest sense of calm. I'd relied on that voice for so long; it was the most significant part of my life for the longest time, and when I'd needed it to make things better it hadn't.

Was it possible that a heart could hurt so much that it just withered up and died? Because I thought that I was experiencing it right then.

"Nope. Got it," I said, answering quickly. Unlocking my car, I turned to pick up my case but he was so close, so near, I couldn't grab it without bumping in to him.

_Don't do this to me_.

Steeling my emotions, I looked up and gave him my best glare. Looking like he hadn't been to a barber shop in months, all choppy hair that hung over his eyes, beard just this side shy of overlong, he stared back . . . and apparently wasn't going to be polite and move out of the way.

It was easier to catalogue the differences than it was to recall the things that hadn't changed, so that was what I did as we stood there in a faceoff. I didn't want to think of how bright his eyes looked, and when the last time was I'd not saw them splotchy from drink or narrowed in anger. Didn't want to notice that his boots were shiny and new when mine were secondhand things.

Castoffs, just like me.

When he still hadn't said anything, I switched my keys to the opposite hand and cleared my throat. Nothing, so . . . "Excuse me?"

He held up his hands and finally took a step back. The small space he gave me wasn't enough; I'd never liked tight spaces or feeling trapped, and the shock of seeing him again and trying to get away only to be caught in the end left me feeling like a cornered cat. Even though I had been working on my issues, and had consciously taken strides to not be so churlish and rude, I brushed him back and turned toward my car to unlock it.

"Well, that's a pleasant way to say hi."

I tossed my things into the backseat and maneuvered around him to get behind the steering wheel. Ignoring him, I reached for the driver's side door but was met with resistance.

I sighed. "That was me saying goodbye, Edward."

He smirked and held on to the door, so I pulled my arm away and stared straight ahead instead. Eventually he'd get irritated enough to leave me be.

"I just wanted to tell you, you guys were fantastic tonight. Your sound has gotten really tight."

"Thank you," I said tersely, looking at my hands. "Now that you've said your peace, I'd like to go home."

He made an exasperated sigh. "Look, I know you're not happy to see me and I'm sure you think there was an ulterior motive, but I honestly wanted to hear you guys again for myself."

I looked up at him then, my anger radiating. "Why did you come here, really?"

He looked up over the top of the car like he was searching for the right words. "There's a lot you can glean from being there live and seeing how the crowd reacts."

Now I just wanted to see if he would take the bait. "Sure you just didn't want to screw it up for me?"

His eyes shot to mine. "Why the hell would you say that?"

Bingo.

A thousand angry responses were on the tip of my tongue, but reminding myself why a crowded parking lot wasn't the right place for them, I took a cleansing breath. "I really don't want to do this here."

"Fine, but I mean it. You guys have something special here. We're looking for acts just like this and would like to record you."

His formal tone grated on my emotions. I turned to look him straight in the eye, my tone quite acrid. "Ever the businessman, aren't you?"

"Bella, you should know I respect your talent more than that."

I did. He'd never been anything but supportive of my music, and yet I couldn't shake the feeling he had an ulterior motive—that he was just doing this to fuck with me.

He didn't need us. Things had taken off for him and his boys, and although I tried to avoid hearing about his success, it was hard not to sometimes. This felt personal, and I was in no way prepared for that at this point.

I cleared my throat and gave him the only answer I could. "It's not happening."

Green eyes that showed hints of a small fire gauged my set-in-stone expression, and his lips tipped down. "I see your disposition hasn't changed much."

Done now, I wrenched the car door from his hands and said, "No thanks to you," before pulling it closed.

In the next second I had the engine cranked and roaring, and I fled the parking lot without, thankfully, hitting anyone. Only once did I look into the rearview mirror to see him still standing there watching me.

Amped up as I was my heart beat a hard, fast rhythm in my chest, and a sick feeling sat low in my stomach. There was a time when talking to him was the best part of my day, and it physically hurt to realize how much those feelings had changed. I flipped on the radio; music, though it was the very thing that tied me to him, was also my biggest distraction, and I let soft chords and sweet melodies calm me down as I made a right off of Music Row and headed for home.

When I was well away, I rolled down the window so I could feel the fresh air wash over my face. The warm summer night air was a welcome reprieve from the claustrophobic feeling from before. After a bit, the anger had subsided and my normal pulse had returned; instead of the rage I expected, all I felt was regret.

Our conversations these days always ended up laced with vitriol. They started out simple enough, but one of us ultimately went for the other's throat. It was the saddest end of something wonderful.

The last time I had seen him, which hadn't been in over three months, was actually online. I'd been perusing the website of a music festival in Indio, California, when I'd happened across their name. I'd spent much of my time avoiding anything to do with their music over the last year, and there was the band's name staring me in the face.

I attempted to work around it, looking for other acts to see, but found my fingers hovering over the link that would allow him into my personal space once again. It had felt so . . . strange to be nervous about listening to him. By the time I hit the live feed, they were halfway through their set.

Trying to be rational, I took in his appearance and thought he looked good. His skin was golden from hanging in the desert and the fitted shirt he wore suited him. He seemed more mature in his delivery, too, the experience from the last couple of years definitely paying off. The crowd sang along to all of their songs, and I got lost along with them for a while.

When they spoke about their rise to fame it reminded me of the cost, and I could no longer just sit back and enjoy the band as a whole; they'd hit it big and could virtually write their own future . . . and I was just the girl who would go down in history as the unnamed never-was. I ended up closing the window shortly thereafter feeling more melancholy than I had in a while.

The highway was nearly empty, the few cars I passed just obstacles to swerve around on a winding road, and it reminded me of better days spent in this very car on road trips full of sunshine and laughter, killer tunes and a feeling so perfect that nothing could ever take it away.

That past seemed so far away now, bad days overshadowing the good until they seemed a made up memory.

Reaching my own driveway, I turned the engine off and sat there for a few moments. I was hesitant for the first time in months to go into my own home . . . alone, and I hated, more than anything, that I felt this way. Wounds so carefully tended had been freshly opened, and whether I wanted to or not, we could never go back to what we were because of him, because of me, because of all of it.

Scrubbing my hands over my face, I set my jaw and then grabbed my things. It didn't hurt so much anymore, the anger now subsiding more quickly than it came. Determined to find my safe place again, I went inside.

* * *

_Lots of love to everyone reading so far. You guys always make my day._

_Song - It Don't Hurt – Sheryl Crow_

_Shout out to Billi and licpa for your continual encouragement, you guys are awesome. _

_And to nic, just, everything. xo (Five weeks, dude.)_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Birds of a Feather**_

_**Chapter Three**_

_**BPOV**_

In my haste to leave for work earlier I'd forgotten to leave the front light on, and now the house was dark, the summer air thick as molasses and strangely unsettling. That was the thing about living alone—every once in a while some movie —or a story in the news—gave me the heebie-jeebies, and what had seemed safe and sound hours before no longer felt that way.

So I darted across the yard and through the door, flipped on the entryway light, and peered around corners for lurking monsters.

The only thing lurking was the sound of an otherwise empty house.

Shedding my bag off of my shoulder, I dropped the rest of my things on the wrought iron bench before heading to the kitchen to pour myself a drink.

My favorite tumbler, a heavy glass piece I'd bought at an estate sale because it was missing its group sat beside the bottle of Maker's Mark. I grabbed a few cubes of ice, poured a glass and toasted the silent house. With a tip back, I relished the burn sliding down my throat.

After a few sips I calmed, my annoyance for the girls easing a teensy bit, too. I loved them more than anything, even when they were interfering shits, but couldn't help but still feel betrayed.

Rose was right: I was pissed, and I didn't see it going anywhere for a few days. I had just reached the point where I finally felt I could breathe again and it had been shattered like glass in an instant. It wasn't my lowest; that point had thankfully passed.

Hell, I knew I was being dramatic but I also relied on that very defense mechanism to keep everyone at bay.

After refilling my drink, I headed into the back den, put my phone on the table and flopped down on the worn leather couch. The silence was nice, and I lay my head back and tried to clear my mind of the fuckery of the night. The whiskey had helped with that, though, and I poured another glass a few minutes later. A ticking sound made me turn my head, and I smiled wide.

My beloved black lab Sam, bleary eyed from what must have been a good doze, trotted into the room and stood at the edge of the couch. I reached down to scratch his head, laughing out loud when his tail began to thump and threatened to knock everything off of the coffee table.

"Hey, buddy. You musta been out cold not to hear me come in."

In response he leaned his head on the cushion, put a paw on my leg.

"C'mon up, then."

It was the invitation he needed—in no time at all he was hogging the available space on the couch, curled next to me in a ball. I placed my arm over him and patted his rump.

My phone rattled in front of me, and I peered over the lump o' dog to see Alice's face on the screen.

_Sorry, lady. Can I bring you makeup coffee tomorrow?_

I hesitated even answering but moved my thumb over the screen. _Sure._

Tossing the phone back on the table, I took another sip of whiskey while Sam looked at me with big brown eyes. The meandering glow was finally starting to take root and I sagged backward into the cushions. After petting my dog for a few minutes more, he looked up at me with his brown eyes, just knowin' I was kinda down. His tail thumped my leg, reassuring in that way a pet always is.

"Yeah. You got it, mister. Daddy's back in town."

~o~

Knocking.

And more knocking.

Groaning, I turned my head only to be met with searing yellow sunshine filtering into the now-bright room. Not quite ready for that, I buried my head under the pillow.

Sam huffed his displeasure at being rousted from his spot warming my feet and hopped off the couch. I listened to his claws skittering down the hallway, and tried to block out the gruff barks when he, apparently, looked out of the front window. He was much too big to not scratch the sill when he inevitably tried to stand up at the window and play a half-assed version of guard dog.

If it wasn't for the tinkling of his tags as he danced around a few seconds later, I might worry that it was some nefarious burglar. But my dog was prancin' and that meant he knew my caller.

The lock gave way and by the sound of the footfalls I knew who it was.

"Rise and shine, lady."

"Go away." I burrowed further beneath the afghan, the whiskey from the night before tappin' a steady rhythm in my head.

"We had a date. Look, coffee."

The aroma sneaking through my senses of a good strong coffee perked me up a bit. I raised my head to follow the scent.

As I reached out to take it, Alice said, "Nope, upright first. I'll be out in the living room."

I cursed her in a low voice but made myself sit up. Rubbing my hands over my face, I waited for the fog in my brain to lift, and then got my ass into gear. Ten minutes later, teeth brushed and an old Titans jersey on, I shuffled out to greet my guest.

Alice looked up from the magazine she was flipping through and held my coffee out to me.

I took it gratefully. "Why are we doing this?"

"One: because I owe you an apology . . . and also because you're slightly less defensive in the morning and less apt to launch things at me."

I frowned at her, but it was true. I didn't wake up very well, and it took me a while to put my armor on in the mornings.

I took a sip of my very large, caramel macchiato. "Ooh, thank you."

"You're welcome." She took a moment before she started in. "Okay, like I said, I need to apologize first. It wasn't right of us to set you up like that. It was pushing the envelope, and I knew it. And I promise to _try _not to do it again, but we both know I will and that you'll get madder than a hornet, but that you'll forgive me anyway."

"Well, as long as we both know you'll be a pain in my ass . . ."

"Don't be ornery. That coffee cost me six bucks. In our defense, both Rose and I knew you'd be against anything to do with it, especially with Edward involved—"

"Good guess." My hands fiddled with the blisters on the lid of my coffee cup while she gave me a look for interrupting her.

"_But _Jasper talked to me a couple of months ago, filled me in on their plans after their tour of working with the talent here, at home. There's so much to discover beyond the mainstream and they want to be a part of it."

Giving her a sidelong glance, I took another drink and waited for her to continue.

"I swear on my granny's grave that Jasper promised Edward wouldn't be there last night. I told him not to come, too. Edward was supposed to let Jasper make the call. He swore he'd stay out of it."

"Well, we all know that didn't work. He can't resist winding me up."

"You know that's not fair, Bella, and you also know I won't get into it with you. I can't. It goes both ways, and you know how to push his buttons, too."

The curtain of irritation dropped over my thoughts again; I got up and walked across the room to cool off some—it wasn't fair to bait Alice about Edward, and one of her lines I knew not to cross. Sam lifted his head from his dog bed to follow my path.

I came to rest in front of the window, looking at but not really seeing the cars that passed in front of my house. "I'm done, Alice. I want him out of my life once and for all. I can't do this 'now-you-see-him-now-you-don't' anymore."

She sighed. "I know that's how you feel, sweetie. I wish it wasn't that way for all of our sakes, but I understand where you're coming from. I really do."

Now that I knew it wasn't Alice or Rose's fault that he'd shown up last night, some of the ice around my lungs melted further. It didn't make him look any better, though.

"Take personal feelings and the past off the table for just a few minutes, okay? If you look at it from a different perspective . . . when it comes to us and our music, you know they'd have our best interests at heart." When I opened my mouth to object, a glint of steel hardened her features. "That's the truth whether you admit it or not. We could do this the way we want to, were meant to, and not where some industry music-man we don't even know might lead us."

And, deep down, I realized she was right.

"I'm only frustrated because it's dragging out, making everyone miserable. I've waited for almost twelve months for him to sign the papers and he refuses to do so."

"Don't you think there's something behind it?"

I looked back out the window, my head starting to throb from the remnants of the whiskey and the conversation. "No, he only cares about what he wants. Just let it go, please. Something else will happen for us. I know it."

Even as I said it, the probability that might never get a better opportunity than this screamed at me to stop being selfish. Musicians were a dime a dozen in this town, and only luck or knowing someone would help a group hit it big.

She watched me for a few moments before she got up and crossed the room. "Again, I'm sorry for playing you so dirty last night. We should have told you, but we really didn't expect him to be there. Whatever you want to do is fine with me and I'm sure Rose feels the same."

She wrapped her arms around me and squeezed. I relaxed and gave her a hug back.

"I love you, you know."

"I know."

"I'm going to head out. Rose will probably give you a call tonight after she's done with school."

I gave her a small smile. "All right. I guess I'll see you on Saturday."

She grabbed her bag and went to leave as Sam thumped his tail on the floor. She stopped at the door and turned to look at me. Her eyes, bottle green and gorgeous, hurt to look at sometimes, especially when they held the regrets I'd longed to see on the matching pair.

"Bella, I know he's my brother, and that I vowed to be completely neutral in this whole thing because I love you two and want you both in my life. But this . . . this is a place where I don't know if I can. He believes in us. Please think about it because I really do think it's the right thing."

Knowing she was probably right, I watched her get into her car and wondered what the hell I was going to do.

~o~

In spite of the gorgeous day, I was looking for any excuse to not venture outside. The hangover had worn off some, so instead of going to work with a piss-poor attitude, I took a personal day and spent the rest of the morning cleaning house.

Halfway through the afternoon I'd remembered the kid from yesterday, Riley, and my promise of helping him find a guitar. I grabbed the phone to call the store.

"Ben, I just remembered I was supposed to help this kid today—"

"A tall scraggly kid? Blond, kinda quiet?"

"Yeah. He's been in?"

"He's been here a little while looking at the stock."

I reached up to rub the space between my eyebrows. "Would you get his number and tell him I'm sorry I couldn't make it in but I'll do my best to find him something next time I work?"

"Will do."

"Thank you."

"See you Tuesday."

I hung up the phone and felt guilty. Now I was shirking my responsibilities and commitments; a pattern too easy to fall back on.

The guilt brought on a fresh bout of frenetic chores. Bed made, laundry started. Shower wall wiped down and the array of products in my bathroom put back in their rightful places. Everything dusted until my house seemed to sparkle. The kitchen was last, and I scrubbed the stovetop until there was nary a streak on the stainless steel.

Sam watched me from the corner of the kitchen, eyes following me in between bouts of snore-filled naps. I reached up and pushed the hair out of my eyes with the back of my hand, and looked in his direction.

"Lazy bones. You've done nothing but sleep and eat and dirty up my yard all day."

He stretched his paws out and closed his eyes.

"Ain't that just like a man."

When I was done I stood back and admired the metal artwork affixed to the walls above the table. I had incorporated a lot of metal with the burgundy and gold tones used throughout the house, and lots and lots of deep red wood. It was a bit darker and dramatic, but it suited my mood nowadays.

And still, no matter how busy I'd kept myself, part of me felt like I'd find Edward lurking outside my door, waiting to pounce and incite more drama I didn't need.

Lord have mercy, I was such a drama queen.

It so happened that I tended to get that way when he was around; we both did, I guessed. What bothered me the most was I thought I had made progress, like I was immune and not letting his presence control my life. But, just then, I was back at square one.

Rose called later on when I had my guitar on my lap.

"Am I still on your shit list?"

Unlike Alice, that was all the apology I was ever likely to get from Rose, and I nodded my head to accept it.

"Pretty much."

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Been thinking about it all day long and I understand why you did what you did, but I still wished you would have trusted me enough to be an adult to deal with it." I bit on the jagged edge of the nail I'd torn last night.

"In all honesty, your reactions in the past haven't been so, um . . ."

"Mature?"

"To say the least. You know, in hindsight maybe it wasn't such a good idea . . . but you never know what could happen. We might make a connection elsewhere."

"Yeah. I know we will."

"You got plans tonight?"

"Eh, I'm gonna do a little writing. Got things running around my head now." I got up and began pacing a little across the room.

"I'd say we should torture you more often, but I still want you to be my friend."

"You're pushin' it."

"I know, but you love me anyway."

"I love you even though you really piss me off sometimes."

"That's my girl. You comin' over tomorrow night after the show?"

"You bet." I hesitated a little. "No surprises?"

"Nope. He's been told."

Relief washed over me that no matter her stance on not getting in the middle, Alice had stuck up for me, and that I wasn't going to have to deal with another up close and personal with Edward. "Okay. Want me to bring anything?"

"Just your sweet ass."

"Nice."

"I'll talk to you tomorrow."

The evening had a sultry feeling to it again. I hung up the phone and tied my hair on top of my head to keep it from sticking to my neck. Sam, having found the coolest spot he could, was on the hardwood floor in front of me, lightly panting.

Pencil in my mouth, I picked up my guitar and found a D major on the strings. I hummed a few bars, the chord progression taking on a life of its own. I'd stop here and there to write something down, pleased that this seemed to be a good night for writing.

In the middle of the latest roll, there was a knock on the screen door. Sam didn't even lift his head.

"One of these days I'm going to get a new guard dog, and you'll have to share your food."

Stretching my neck, I peered down the hallway toward the front door. Bathed in yellow light, Edward stood on the other side.

"Can I come in for a minute?"

No mocking in his voice tonight. Just calm, a faint note of anticipation. That was a good thing—Edward in a mood was easy for me to spot with our history.

I contemplated ignoring him but knew he'd be persistent. In a resigned voice, I said, "I'd rather you didn't, but seeing as it's still your house, too, I don't have a choice."

"You always have a choice."

I set my lips into a thin line, trying to ignore that very fact. Putting my guitar down, I went to unlock the screen door to let him in. Before he could get inside, Sam was leaping and whining happy sounds, and Edward stooped down to pet him and ruffle the fur on his head.

Traitor.

Small murmurs of "Miss you buddy," followed me as I walked away and returned to the couch. After their happy reunion, he joined me in the living room, leaning his long frame against the wall just at the entrance. He glanced casually around the room, eyes noting the changes I'd made since he'd been here last.

"Kind of dark in here."

"Well, I like it. Feels homey to me." My defensive position was back and in full force. "Why are you here?"

"I wanted to see how you were and—"

"So, all of the sudden you worry about how I'm doing?"

He pointedly continued what he was trying to say. "_And_ to give you an apology for last night. Showing up like I did . . . well, I knew full well it'd rile you up and I did it anyway."

"Surprise, surprise," I mumbled.

But I _was _surprised; he hadn't apologized for anything in such a long time. My fingers reached for my pencil—I didn't have anything to write but my hands were trembling and I didn't want him to see that. I looked back up, noticed his eyes fixed on the spot where my shirt had risen up and ink swirled over the side of my hip.

I cleared my throat and pulled the fabric down.

"I also wanted to talk to you about recording."

I closed my eyes. "You know it won't work."

"Why? Because you're my wife?"

I shot him a look. "Soon to be ex-wife."

Like clockwork, my gaze rested on the table in front of me where papers assembled with a blue backer had sat all day. For twelve months I'd tried to get them signed, and here he was where I could have him sign them without excuses. My fingers itched to grab a pen and push them at him, but that would just cause an argument I wasn't in the mood for . . . yet. Besides, I was curious what line of bullshit he was itchin' to shovel out.

He shoved his hands in his pocket. "I'm here because I think you guys are ready and I want to see that you get handled in the right way. To make sure you get the best team behind you."

"And you think you're the best person to handle me? Funny. Enlighten me, then—why now?"

"We only just got the idea laid out in January and found the space we want to record in here in town last month. You guys were one of the first acts we sought out."

"I just don't see this working. At all. We can barely be around each other anymore."

He frowned. "I don't see why it can't work. I can oversee things from afar. We'll have everything on a tight schedule, you'll be in the studio—"

"Still trying to control me?"

He rolled his eyes and huffed, throwing his hands up, of course, being incredibly dramatic about the gesture. That was the Edward I knew. He was starting to come unraveled.

"Jesus, Bella, I'm not trying to control anyone. Do you not hear me? I'm trying to let you know how good you are, but no, you have to turn it into an age old issue of yours. All I'm trying to do is to help you and Rose and my sister where I can." He paced a couple of steps before turning around to face me. "If you are not going to do it for yourself, then do it for Alice and Rose. They deserve a break, too."

"Did Alice send you?"

He looked puzzled but then realized the implication. "No, actually, I came on my own."

"Mmm-hmm."

"Would I honestly fuck with your God given talent and try to take advantage of it for my own good?"

Old habits die hard. Before I could stop myself, I uttered, "Yup."

He pushed off of the wall where he'd been leaning. "Whatever. Figure it out. You know where to find me when you do." He turned to walk out the door, screen slamming shut behind him with a sound that made me jump.

The angry words left unsaid burned worse than whiskey, sliding slowly down my throat making it difficult to swallow.

~o~

* * *

_Thank you for the best reviews a girl could ask for._

_Song – Rules – Jayme Dee_

xoxo Nic


	4. Chapter 4

_**Birds of a Feather**_

_**Chapter Four**_

_**BPOV**_

The midday crush of folks young and old, with voices raised in conversation like the buzz of bees around a honeycomb, was everywhere I turned. I took my time enjoying the scent of fried foods that floated enticingly in the air and the sight of merch booths hawking cheap jewelry and knockoff sunglasses. Days like this were perfect, all sunshine yellow and relaxed, and so much what I thought of as _home _that my normally melancholy disposition had a hard time hanging on.

Not even the heavier-than-normal traffic clogging the streets around Centennial Park was a damper. Parking, on the other hand . . . that was an experience I hoped to forget about. I switched my guitar case to the other hand and nodded at a group of older gentlemen holding court around a picnic table when they looked my way.

The abnormally large crowd gathered for the monthly summer show made for an atmosphere charged with excitement, and if I hadn't known better, I would think I was in the wrong place and time.

"Excuse me, coming through."

Sidestepping a guy loaded down with t-shirts, I paused in front of a tented booth selling kettle corn and my stomach rumbled—not much of one to eat before a performance, I'd skipped lunch and hunger was making itself known.

"You want a bag, young lady?"

I grinned at the gal manning the cash drawer and shook my head. "Not just yet, but I might come see you after I get off stage, ma'am."

She glanced at my guitar case and nodded. "You got a case of the nerves, huh? Well, don't you worry none, I'll be here for a while."

"Sounds like a plan."

That was the thing I liked about these festivals so much—people were plain friendly. I needed more of that in my life.

My girls gave me shit for it, but one of my methods for coping with emotions—whether they be hurt and angry, sad and resigned—was learning to steel myself against the next wave by ignoring what I knew would get me heated. And Edward's presence, in whatever form it may be, in my life right now was throwing me for a loop that made it impossible.

Our conversation from the night before sat like lead in the pit of my stomach, and try as I might, he was on my mind.

Truth was that I knew he was right. An offer was an offer, and my hem-hawing wasn't doing Alice or Rose any favors. A look around at the other bands set up in patches on the lawn while they waited their turn was an uncomfortable reminder of that: milk crates of rough-cut demos; hope that someone would care enough—so persistent they were nearly tangible; a quiet desperation to make it big visible in practiced smiles and fast talkin'.

If offered, any one of them would take the deal and run with it.

Last night had only shown me that our separation topped off by little-to-no communication had brewed a bitter cocktail of regrets and issues that were downright toxic. Because we'd ended on such a sour note, the few conversations between me and Edward over the past year had deteriorated into baiting, passive-aggressive squabbles where we tried to one-up each other into who could cause frustration more.

Time and time again I'd wondered whether we'd gotten married too young. When things got rough—and, oh, how they had—instead of getting through it together, we'd licked our wounds in separate corners, coming out only to cause more gashes. There were a slew of self-help books that pontificated on all the ways to do it right, and I'd read my fair share in the past year, and still not a one of them made my soul feel settled.

Spotting Alice, I reached deep down inside and vowed to not let his presence control my life for awhile. Didn't stop me from scanning the immediate area around her for a lanky guy in shiny boots, but he wasn't there and so I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hey, pretty lady, how're things goin'?" I dropped my stuff beside her and sat on the blanket she had spread in the shade of a maple tree.

Rose wasn't there, and I figured she was probably pestering the people backstage.

She laughed and continued playing on her phone. "Knew you'd be late. They gave us some extra time so we need to change the setlist. Rose has been blowing your phone up wonderin' where you were."

"Eh, I set in on silent after last night."

She paused in playing whatever game she was currently obsessed with and looked at me. "Heard about that. You okay?"

"Not really, but I will be. I'm not really tryin' to think about it right now, though, so tell me about this change . . ."

"We scored fifteen extra minutes, so we need to add some songs." Her phone beeped and she sighed, touching the screen rapidly. "Rose is coming."

"She pissed?"

"Nah. She still feels like a jerk for springing . . . well, you know. Anyway, you're probably gonna be forgiven for, like, a day or two more on your forever-lateness."

I laughed and rummaged in my bag for the memo pad. Edges of the paper curled over my fingers as I flipped through and tried to figure out where we could pad things out. "Sure are a lot of people here today. Some big act I don't know about?"

She saw through my nonchalance, though—long as we'd been friends, she could spot my bullshit. "Nope. I heard about some extra time on one of the radio stations this morning, but I think it's just because the weather's been so nice this weekend."

"Good deal."

"You ladies ready?"

I turned and saw Emmett, one of the volunteers who helped with the turnover in between each band. He was a friendly sort of guy, showed up to some of our shows on occasion, and, from what I could gather, had a huge crush on Rose but was as much shy as he was big.

Rose wasn't far behind him, and I noticed how he slowed his steps to keep close to her.

"We've got about ten minutes to figure out what to squeeze in," Rose said, coming to rest beside where we sat.

The steady thrum of my heart before a performance gave flight like a hummingbird, thrilling for the rush of being on stage in front of a larger audience.

In no time flat we were onstage, a hastily scribbled list taped next to my feet and a crowd of families and older couples, people our age, and the small group of our few devoted right up front. Austin was front and center, a sweet looking redhead next to him. Her hair was a beacon in an otherwise neutral looking crowd, and I couldn't help but notice the way he leaned into her, how he held her hand and leaned down to whisper something that made her laugh.

_Good for him. _

The pang this time was smaller, though, an accomplishment that resonated through my voice.

The crowd was lively, and their energy seemed to overshadow any feelings I was harboring from the day before. They brought me up high, and even a sighting of a guy in glasses and a black t-shirt, one that I'd recognize if I was blind, wasn't going to bring me down.

When I looked back to the spot a few minutes later, during the climax of our last song, he was gone.

"That's all we've got for today, folks. Y'all enjoy the rest of the show, and we thank ya for bein' so kind."

We cleared the stage to a healthy round of applause and congregated on the side to go over our plans for the rest of the day.

"Hell of a show." Emmett, appearing at our side, ushered the next act on stage while he made moon eyes my friend.

"We're celebrating later, if you haven't got any plans," I said, shooting a look at Rose.

She cocked her head. "Yeah, I'm making food but you gotta bring your own beer. My wallet doesn't run that deep."

"Oh, sure, that'd be great. Nice. I mean . . . that sounds like a good time."

While they exchanged details, Alice and I began packing up our things and making conversation with the people sitting nearby who wanted to tell us they'd enjoyed our show. One man, a fella in his thirties, cute and with an easy smile, stood up and approached us.

"Do you ladies have a CD? Sure would like to buy one if you do."

Alice paused, shoulders going tight as she looked in my direction. Rose, still off to the side with Emmett, looked pointedly at me and gestured for me to answer.

Oh, that's how it was going to be?

"Um, not yet." I looked back at her, narrowing my eyes a bit for putting me on the spot. "But we're working on it."

"I hope so," he replied. "You're really, really good."

"Thank you."

~o~

At home, I changed out of my nice dress into something more suited for a backyard barbeque. Sam followed me as I moved around the house, tennis ball clamped in his mouth and forlorn eyes trained on my every step. When I didn't take it he huffed and dropped down, ball bouncing across the wood floor as he let go.

"Aww, Buddy, you're breaking my heart here." It probably wasn't healthy to carry on conversations with your pet, but when you lived alone . . . "Tomorrow, okay? It's you and me and we'll spend the day together and do all sorts of fun doggy things. Sound good?"

He kept his head between his paws but the 'thump, thump' of his tail told me he was all good.

Grabbing a bottle of wine—because my mama had taught me not to show up empty handed to a gatherin'—I locked up the house and made my way over to Roses' place. It was a small house, mid-century and charming, all sloping roofs and stucco exterior that lent more to a cottage feel than the neighborhood of newer-build homes I lived in. The inside, vintage and just a lil' bit country, was comfortable and the reason we tended to congregate here.

Late as I was, I had to park on the street, and I let myself in. I headed to the kitchen, where voices spilled over loud and happy.

"Hey!"

Alice, holding a glass of her fancy-pants beer made out of berries or pencil shavings or whatever-the-hell she was into this week, launched herself at me and hung on for dear life. Even though I had seen her hours earlier, she hugged me as if she hadn't seen me in weeks, and I ruffled her hair.

"You're such a lush."

"Says the girl who brought a big ass bottle of wine."

"To share . . ."

"Whatever, c'mon. The party is just getting started."

Emmett was leaning against the sink chatting quietly to some friend of Rose's from the middle school she taught at, and faces I recognized from around the way, or shows, spilled into the backyard. Still licking my wounds from the last surprise, I checked out faces a bit more carefully and noticed Jasper standing to the side of the porch chatting with some guy.

Of everyone on "Edward's side", I held no ill will toward this one person. He noticed me and tipped his beer in my direction, and I waved back once.

Alice noticed, slung her arm though mine, and pulled me toward the fridge.

"So, Jasper's here, huh?"

"He's here alone, on my invitation. Just enjoy the party."

"Promise? I really can't deal with another big reveal this month."

"Cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye."

It was something we'd said as long as I could remember, and I nodded. "Good deal. What's to drink? My wine isn't cold yet."

The feast Rose had put out was fabulous: pulled pork and her famous cole slaw, and a pineapple upside down cake. It was all so frigging good I had two helpings to make up for the meal I'd missed earlier.

After dinner, most of the crowd gathered in the living room to hang out and keep the party going over more drinks and kickass tunes, but I headed toward the back yard for some fresh air.

I was okay with being social, but usually it ran thin for me when conversation revolving around spouses and families being started came up. By no means did I begrudge anyone of those joys, but sometimes it was just too much to take in.

The sun had just set, the glow painting the sky amethyst and pink and the prettiest dark blue. The stars would just be appearing, and eager for the calm, I grabbed another wine and opened the sliding door, one of the few upgrades Rose had made to the house.

If it wasn't for giving it up, a smoke would be perfect right about then.

"Hey."

Speaking of . . .

Cigarette smoke wafted from the corner, and I realized Jasper was outside, too. Clearly the wine was making me lax. The instinct to go back inside was there, but I stepped onto the porch anyway.

"Didn't think anyone would be out here."

"Looks like we had the same idea."

His smile was so easy. It always had been, and I took a deep breath and settled into the chair across from him. I'd always liked Jasper and had no reason to believe he would make me feel uncomfortable. Just the thought made me relax a little.

And I couldn't help but eye his smoke some. He gestured to me with his pack.

"Nah, gave that up ages ago."

"That's right. Wasn't sure you'd stuck to it."

"People change."

"Sometimes."

"How have you been?" I asked, not wanting to explore that topic. "It's good to see you again."

He grinned, slow and lazy, just like his drawl. "Been great, but I'm happy to be home. Living on the road ain't as good as this."

I snorted. "Really? I thought being on the road was what you always dreamed about."

He took a sip of his beer. "Yes and no. Now, don't get me wrong because it's not a bad deal, but it gets grueling being on the road all of the time."

"Oh? I'm sure it's got its upsides, too. The partying, the girls. . ."

He grinned again, looking like a devil in a Sunday suit. "Not arguing that point, but that gets old, too. Gotta know when to pull back on that shit or you'll get stupid. Anything you could ever want right in front of you? That's a drug in and of itself, but that ain't really our style, either. We're good 'ole boys at heart, sweetheart."

I smiled at the nickname. Maybe he was right and some things stayed the same.

But now my curiosity was amped; I knew we could never be that famous but I wanted to know more. Know about the life on the road, about the grind. In the back of my mind, maybe I wanted to know more about Edward.

As much as I tried to tell myself I didn't care, I had so little knowledge of the last twelve months. Alice was good about not mentioning him at all in my presence unless it was unavoidable, but I was still going to be nosy. Out of respect for her, I had always tried to keep my reactions to myself.

Maybe I didn't realize how much I had really asked of her.

Unsure of how to ask again without sounding like I was snooping, I fidgeted with the table in front of me and watched my fingers trace the metal patterns.

"You girls sounded great the other night. I'm pretty impressed with what I've seen so far. Enjoyed the day show, too."

I looked up. "You were at the park?"

"Yeah, we stopped by to catch your set. Good stuff. Building quite a following, I see."

I _knew _Edward was in the crowd. "Well, they weren't all there for us."

"I'd hedge a guess that quite a few of them were. I listened to the buzz in the crowd. A lot of them were looking for your CD."

That same wave of guilt I'd felt earlier today reappeared, and my shoulders slumped some. We were at a point where we should have promo and music to sell, but, because of my stubborn ass, we were lagging behind.

"I know. We're looking into some things to make that happen."

He gave me a small smile. "You know, we'd love to help you guys."

I sighed heavily and reached up to rub my forehead. "I know. But you know I have my reservations, Jasper." I wished I had the right words, that I wasn't always so cryptic and shelled off, but I didn't. "But I'll listen."

He relaxed into his chair, took a drag of his longneck. "Good. I promise it won't hurt."

Putting on my professional hat, I listened to him as he went into great detail on how they'd formulated a plan for a small label. Listening to him tell his side of it, I was more open minded than the night before with Edward. He wasn't trying to sell me something, just talking about how they wanted to put out honest and genuine stuff. The few bands they'd lined up already were a hodgepodge of local, undiscovered musicians.

"What made you guys leave New York? I thought that was the place to be?"

"Sometimes, when things don't feel right anymore, you need to come home and get grounded again."

"Sounds like it was pretty tough."

"It was and it wasn't. Ed felt it the most. It was his idea to come back. Get back to our roots."

I shifted then, and looked back out to the darkened yard. Same as always, hearing Edward's name made me uncomfortable.

Roots.

Funny word, and so many ways to look at it. Roots were the start of my problems, and something I relied on even still. I still lived in the town I'd cut my teeth in, still had the same friends, for the most part, I always had. Still ate supper with my daddy every Sunday evening. It was so much easier to be angry with Edward, to find fault in his actions because they'd taken away so much from me. And yet I knew he was a roots sort of guy—his family, his friends, the place he grew up . . . and me, in the past. For the umpteenth time that day, I wondered why it'd gone so wrong, and what I was going to do.

"Be straight with me, okay? Why do you want us? I mean, there are probably acts better suited to the sound you're lookin' for. We're just shy of country, and those bands you mentioned? I know them, and they're all heavier than us."

"That's just it. You represent here. You're local talent and have to be the most down to earth people I know."

"Um, thanks?"

"I mean it. I'd be proud to work on your first cut."

I smiled at him. He made the whole thing sound so easy and so right but I knew it was something we as a group needed to discuss.

Scratch that: I was pretty sure the girls were already in. I was the holdup, and there were still things I needed answers for. Boundaries to be set down, promises I needed before I could even contemplate making a decision.

"So _if_ we were to go ahead and do this, and that's a big if, what would be the process? Who'd be involved?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Well, well, look at Miss Bella playing ballbuster. Okay, I'll bite. I understand you're hurting, I'm not dumb and I've known you a long time. I'll be the one to guide you through the production process. Laying down tracks, help organize any other musicians we might need."

I looked at him pointedly. "What part does Edward play in this?"

"Besides scouting talent, he oversees the final product."

"So, technically, I won't have to see him through this whole thing if we decide to go forward with it. How about retaining final control of the music?"

"No, he won't be around much, but there are times might have to be. That's the way it goes in this business. He has a knack for this and you want him in your pocket."

His next words felt like they were heading in the direction of _but you need to trust him_, I could already tell, but I held up my hand to cut those words off at the pass.

"I don't know if I can. I've lived through too many broken promises."

He lit another cigarette, exhaled slowly. "Fuck. I knew you'd be difficult."

"Always am."

"That you are, but you also don't know what I see every day. I know you don't want to hear it, either, but I care about you too much to sugarcoat shit for you. Ed's got his shortcomings and he has a helluva lot of regret for past decisions. He tries, though. Every day he tries to pick up and move forward. What happened with you both, hell, the entire series of events, well that was unfortunate. And there are sometimes when things left to fester go bad. No one made the best choices they could, but shit happens, sweetheart. You either rise from the fire or die in the flames."

God, I knew he was right. Jasper was as honest as they came.

And I owed the girls. For being there for me, for putting up with my shit, for working hard and just because they were my friends. There were moments when you had to suck it up to make others happy, too.

"Is there a way to keep my interactions with him to a bare minimum?"

"Yes. The barest."

Looking at the entire situation, I felt I could let go of some of my bitterness and be professional with a unique opportunity.

"Let me discuss it with the girls."

~o~

* * *

_Song – Be OK – Ingrid Michaelson_

_And many thanks and hugs to you guys for all of your reviews and support._

_And to nic who never bails on me even when I send her chapters in the eleventh hour. You are the best._


	5. Chapter 5

_**Birds of a Feather**_

_**Chapter Five**_

_**BPOV**_

"You're leaving kind of early, everything cool?"

Rose, Alice and I stood on the porch of Rose's house. Twenty minutes ago I'd come back to join the party after my conversation with Jasper, and now I was ready to go home.

"Things are fine, I'm just ready to go home. It's been a long couple of days."

Alice, three sheets to the wind, grabbed me in a clumsy hug. "I don't want you to leave yet, the party is just getting started!"

I fixed some hair that had fallen loose from her headband and looked at Rose over her head. "Please tell me she's staying here tonight."

"That or I'll have someone sober run her home."

"Party pooper." Alice stepped back, swayed, and then melted against the storm door. "You're not mad are you?"

"No, you know Jasper. He's hard to be mad at."

She giggled. "Yeah, he's easier to get along with than my brother. Well, at least for you anyway."

Rose slung an arm around her waist so she wouldn't topple over onto the lawn. "Maybe I should send her home with you."

"Hah, not happening. Anyway, you guys want to come over tomorrow night? I wanna talk to you about some stuff."

They both visibly perked up, and from the looks on their faces—coupled with the fact that I wasn't portraying a storm cloud on steroids—they were both guessing I wanted to talk to them about something positive.

Rose nodded. "We'll be there. You good to drive?"

"Yeah, I'm straight. I didn't drink very much tonight."

We said our goodbyes, Alice hugged me extra-tight, and then I was in my car and heading home. Instead of a pleasant alcohol buzz, I was wired with the prospect of several, far more sobering, things: cutting a record with my girls, and how I hoped we'd get a chance to do it the way we wanted to; the opportunities presented by Jasper before I'd gone inside, how the way he'd explained them had seemed natural and easy; and anxiety over working with Edward.

Because no matter which way the pendulum swung, the very real possibility that there would be days I'd have to spend in his company were starting to sink in, and I didn't know how to feel about that.

~o~

The tiniest sliver of light was just visible through my windows when I opened my eyes the next morning. I'd tossed and turned the night before, my mind conjuring scenarios of working with Edward and the things I'd say if he started his crap with me. I didn't remember falling asleep, but a glance at the clock told me it hadn't been long ago.

Sam harrumphed in his sleep, legs moving spastically, and I reached over to pet his belly and calm him down. I didn't generally let him sleep in my bed—he was too big and a bed hog to boot—but last night I'd allowed it after he'd stared at me with pathetic eyes from his pillow on the floor.

The bed was warm, and I turned on my side to snuggle further into the cozy pile of quilts and pillows and stare out into my back yard. There was something about a green country lawn that couldn't be topped, and I stayed there watching the world wake up until I was fully awake myself.

It was Sunday, though, and being a lazybones couldn't last forever, unfortunately. Sam woke up when I threw the covers off and followed me into the kitchen, waiting not-so-patiently at the back door to be let out.

"Don't kill any squirrels this time."

He barked as soon as he got outside, and I winced. My neighbors were a couple in their mid-sixties who didn't really like his shenanigans, and I could just imagine the passive-aggressive conversation we'd have next time I saw them if he continued to bark his fool head off.

Eh, whatever. I'd just get my mail late at night for the next couple of days.

While he ran around I started the coffee maker and hopped in the shower—which didn't last long because, as predicted, my dog seemed to think himself a canine alarm clock, and I had to hightail it to the back door.

"Get in here, you idiot."

He took his time watering my (dead) flower garden, and then came in and parked himself in the center of the kitchen.

"I'm taking you to trainin' school if you don't learn how to act."

I didn't know why it was that the men in my life liked to cause such hassles for me. I threw up my hands when he started scratching behind his ear, ignoring me, and went about getting dressed and throwing a bag together for the day. Sam was in the habit of laying his head next to the bag when he saw it, like it would force me not to leave without him. His ears perked up when I walked back into the kitchen withit, and I rolled my eyes.

"C'mon, then. Let's go."

Once on the road, I chanced a look into the rearview mirror and saw his nose stuck out the window; he was completely in his element and trying to catch all of the strange smells as we drove further away from home.

Once upon a time, New York City had made me act like that, too.

The apartment in SoHo that Edward had picked out as our temporary home was exciting at first. The first few months I was there I marveled in the sights and smells of the city—some good, some bad, and every one of them captivating. Neighborhood shops and eateries became my personal tourist attractions, and I visited them often during my extended vacation.

And that was all it was. A vacation.

As much as I loved and appreciated the hustle and bustle of life, the attractions and outrageous people and the thrum of the city that was truly a heartbeat, I had known from day one that I could never make my permanent home there. Life moved too fast there, and I liked when days were long and sweet; people didn't pay any attention to anyone but themselves, and I was a girl who enjoyed getting to know new people.

Simply put, it wasn't _home. _

Certainly not like Tennessee which wove around me on my drive, first as urban sprawl, then suburbs, and, as my drive ticked over into the hour-long mark, rolling countryside and spaced out spreads.

The morning sun had just fully come up when I pulled onto my dad's long driveway. It needed to be filled in again, the gravel path downright treacherous in spots, and Sam moved around the backseat from one side to the other, eager to get out and run.

I was earlier than usual, and wondered idly if my dad might still be on the lake. He didn't go to church much anymore, said a quiet morning on the lake was all he needed to spend time with the Lord . . .not that he didn't go on occasion when he felt he had a little makin' up to do.

I parked my car and got out, Sam running in front of me as I headed for the backyard.

Sure enough, my dad was just getting out of the boat as I let us into the back gate. He waved and then reached back into the boat for his pole and tacklebox. I paused on the dock to wait for him appreciating him in his own element. "Mornin'."

"Hi. You're early."

"Nice to see you, too."

When he got to the end of the dock I reached up to give him a hug best I could, and he patted my back with his one free arm. Sam wriggled around his legs until he reached down to scratch his head. "Hey, boy."

"Hungry?"

"Of course. Let's go inside so you can fix me something to eat."

"Funny."

We strode up to the house together and, as he veered off to stow his gear in the garage, I headed for the kitchen to pour us a couple of coffees. The texture of the thick black liquid combined with an acrid smell made me wrinkle my nose.

"Yuck, dad, how long has this been in here?"

"I made it at five. It's fine."

"You mean five last night, right?" I shook my head and stepped to the sink. "I'm making a new pot."

"Don't pour it out, I'll drink that," he said, swiping one of the mugs from my hand.

"Your funeral." I shuddered when he took a sip of it, and dumped the rest in the sink, and then got out the heavy-duty stuff to clean the carafe. Apparently years of drinking stale coffee on the job had seasoned his stomach like a cast iron pan; I however, was not so tough.

"There's a roast in the fridge. I was going to start it, but since you're here early I'll leave that to you."

I chuckled at his wheedling—anything to get out of cooking made my dad a happy guy—and started a new pot of coffee. "Not a problem. Now, how about breakfast?"

Something about Sunday breakfast made me want to cook up everything, but instead I opted for biscuits and gravy since it was his favorite; the fact that he had some deer sausage sitting in the fridge helped, too.

My dad had retired from thirty-five plus years on the police force just last year. It'd hit me then how up in years he was getting, and how badly he ate. Proper meals weren't really his forte as much as pizza deliveries and stops at fast food places were, and so I made sure he ate well on Sundays and had enough leftovers to get a few more decent meals in his belly.

With his biscuits and gravy plated and heaped with two eggs, I sat the dish in front of him, then grabbed my own plate and sat down.

"You not eating?"

"Yeah, I'm eating. What is this?" I pointed at my eggs.

"That's not enough. You gotta eat more."

Taken aback, I frowned at my eggs—two, sunny side up—and then glanced at his plate again. Okay, it was true that my appetite had been screwy since Edward had showed back up, but it wasn't like I was a stick, either.

"I will later. The smell of your coffee made my stomach hurt."

"Uh huh."

He took a big bite of biscuit and I started cutting into my eggs, doing more pushing around than actual eating.

"So what's up?"

"As far as what?"

"You're fidgeting. You always fidget when you have something to tell me. Lemme guess. Your mother is getting remarried for the third time."

"No," I said, laughing.

"You have an incurable disease."

"No!" But maybe in a way he wasn't too far from the truth. "Edward's back in town."

"Oh? To stay?"

He tried to temper his enthusiasm, but the twitch of his 'stache gave it away. He'd always liked Edward, but he was one of those sorts of fathers who were loyal to a fault. To keep peace, he'd done his best to stay out of our business when we'd separated but I knew he'd missed talking to Edward.

"I don't know, really. He and Jasper are starting up some record company for unsigned acts in Nashville. Guess we've got something on New York in that aspect."

He frowned at me; I straightened up and reminded myself not to be sassy—he'd always said he'd raised a lady and not a barn cat.

"That doesn't sound too bad."

I forced a bite of egg down, and then took a sip of my coffee. Stalling. I sighed. "They want to sign me and the girls."

He looked closely at me. "And you don't want to do it."

"I'm not exactly sure if I _can_ do it."

Sometimes I was more like my mama, friendly and interested in different things, but a lot of the time my dad and I were cut from the same cloth. Hesitant to make changes and weighers of all things involved. Because he could tell I was indeed weighing, he took another bite of food and waited for me to continue.

"I'm torn. Here I can't get him to communicate with me over the last year about signing the divorce papers, and then he swoops back into town thinking everything is hunky dory and he can just slide back into my life?" Appetite gone, I set my fork down. "I mean, why us? Why's he gotta mess with my band?"

"You girls are quite talented, that's not hard to see. And, just my two cents, but it'd be nice for you to work with someone you know."

"But, Daddy, you know he makes me raw inside." I felt like I was ten years old again, having to explain feelings that I didn't understand myself.

He downed the rest of his coffee before he spoke. "Generally, baby girl, you get those sorts of feelings because you still care. If you didn't, what he does wouldn't matter so much."

I frowned. "That's not it."

"Isn't it?"

Not liking where our conversation was headed, I stood and placed my plate on the ground so Sam could have the rest of my eggs. When he was finished, I stooped over to grab the plate and rinse it off.

"I'm going to take Sam for a walk."

We left the house through the back screen door and went down to the edge of the lake to find Sam a stick. The nice thing about my dad's property was the sprawling lawn that melded into a beautiful greenbelt—a spot with no neighbors on either side. I could walk along the lake shore for quite a ways without stumbling into someone else's back yard.

I threw the stick in the water repeatedly until the ire melted some and I was the one who needed the rest—Sam was rarin' to go, so I let him play in the water while I found a place to sit for a few moments to watch.

Smarting because Daddy's comment had rubbed me the wrong way, I lay back and stared at the puffy white clouds in the sky. Peace and quiet only made my mind work overtime, though, and memories I'd rather stay buried seemed to lurk over every inch of the area around the lake.

"Ugh. Sam! Really?"

My water-soaked lab had come right next to me and shook himself dry. I was spattered in lake water but shrugged it off, the hint of a warm day already making itself known. He plopped down next to me and started to lick his paws dry.

It was starting to appear that I was the only one who held any animosity toward Edward. The girls were constantly telling me that I needed to get over my anger, and they were right . . . to a point. Being so fired up all the time wasn't doing me any favors; it only resulted in a knotted up stomach and premature wrinkles from all the eye narrowing I was doin'. Heck, my daddy, quiet as he was about it, still liked him.

Probably missed his fishing buddy.

I turned my head to the dock at my daddy's place, remembering vividly a bright morning a few years back. I'd sat in this same spot waiting on them to come back in from fishing. Sam had been a puppy still, scared of a whole mess of things, and he'd yipped when the boat came near because the sound of the motor made him anxious. As soon as they were docked, I went down to meet them to see about their daily catch, laughing when the sounds of their arguing drifted to my ears.

"_Admit it, mine was bigger. It's okay to say it, Charlie, doesn't make you any less a man."_

"_Son, you don't know jack about bigger. If'n you'd gotten it in the boat, I might be tempted to believe you, but you didn't and it's just another whopper story, now." _

_Grinning at the manly-men-together routine, I walked onto the dock and held a hand out to help my dad out of the boat. He and gave me a wink, letting me know he was just winding him up. Edward's face was all scrunched in frustration. He was always so competitive and got butt hurt if he didn't win._

"_Catch anything for dinner?" I asked._

"_Oh, I did," my dad replied. "But junior here had a little struggle." He smiled at me as he walked by, and then sauntered away to clean his catch. _

_Edward took his time gathering up his gear and exiting the boat . . . and I took _my _time watching him do it. He'd always been cute, even when we were younger and I didn't see him that way, but as we'd gotten older he'd changed from cute to good looking to downright handsome. The sleeves of his t-shirt gathered around his muscles as he wound the fishing wire back together, and I watched the play of sun-kissed skin and bright white cotton and thought about how nice those arms had felt around me that morning in bed. _

_When he finally got out and put down of all of his gear, I snaked my arms around him and stepped into his body, into the exact place that was my favorite spot in all of the world. He was warm from the sun already, and when his arms wrapped around me, too, I closed my eyes and kissed his shoulder. _

_His chin settled on top of my head, and he grumbled something I couldn't quite hear. _

"_That bad, huh?" _

_His hands drifted down to where my shirt and pants met, stealing under the fabric and warming me in more ways than one. After a moment, he replied, "Nah, your dad just likes to stir the shit. It's the way we communicate, nothin' to worry about."_

"_Ya think?"_

_He kissed me on the top of the head and he pulled me in tighter, hands slipping lower. The smell of his shirt, all mixed with water, air and him, the feel of his skin on mine . . . it was so, so right. I turned my head trying to get closer._

_After a heavy sigh, he spoke. "I gotta leave again tomorrow. We have another meeting in New York."_

_I pulled back to look up at his face. "But I thought you were done for a bit. We were going to work on the house this week." _

_He reached up to remove his ball cap and rub a hand over his head before replacing it. "I know, but I just got a text from Jasper. I promise I'll give you next week instead."_

Promise.

_It had become a word that meant next to nothing to me anymore. I promise to be home, I promise we'll go away somewhere together when this is finished, I promise I'll call you later . . . _

_This wasn't the first time and I was beginning to see it wouldn't be the last._

_A hint of hot tears began to well in my eyes and I cursed myself for being so oversensitive._

That particular meeting turned into three weeks of sessions, something about booking studio musicians and working with a few famous bands on collaborations, and I ended up doing most of the work of painting the bedrooms on my own.

I dug a rock from under my back and hurled it toward the lake with a little force, and Sam raised his head to look at me.

"C'mon, Buddy, time to head back."

When we arrived at the house, I started putting together Sunday supper, knowing it would take a few hours to be ready. I cleaned the kitchen as I always did, made sure everything was in its rightful place so my dad could find it. When I was done, I grabbed my guitar and went onto the porch to decompress. Working on the latest song about a girl on her own, I got lost until my dad came outside.

"I like the tune on that one." He handed me a glass of sweet tea and sat down next to me. "Go on. Play that one again."

I took a drink, the sugary rightness of tea made the way it was supposed to be—coincidentally one of the few things my dad could do well in the kitchen—making me weirdly content.

One of my earliest memories was of my dad and an acoustic guitar playing me to sleep when I was a little girl. He wasn't very good, and it was never a priority for him like it was for me, but he liked tooling around on the guitar, and I also thought he knew how music settled me.

I picked out the opening chords and looked out to the lake, and played him the song from the start.

"That was good, kiddo."

"Thanks." I leaned over to grab my glass again.

"How're ya feeling?"

"Better now, thanks."

He leaned back against the porch railing and looked over to where Sam was curled up and asleep in the sun. "You're my girl, and I'd do anything not to see you hurtin'. This whole thing has been extra hard on you, but there comes a time when you need to move on with your life. You can't change the past, so you might as well make the best future that you can."

I picked at my cuticles a little, feeling resigned to what he was saying. "That's not the first time someone has told me that."

"Well, it won't sink in until you're ready to listen. Especially coming from your daddy."

"Have I really been that bad?"

"Yep."

"Nothing like being blunt."

"You asked."

I leaned my head back to stare at the porch ceiling, watched a bug crawl along the boards, and let the truth sink in.

"It hurts so much, Daddy. I can't even describe it."

He sighed. "I know, Bella, and in some ways it always will, but some day it won't hurt so much. "

He was speaking from experience, and I took comfort in knowing that he'd gotten through it, too. The silence between us grew a little until I picked up my guitar again and played the beginning of one of his favorite songs.

He smiled and stood. "Welp. Better wash up because dinner smells like it's almost done. Make sure you play that one extra loud while it finishes."

~o~

Cars filled up the interstate on my drive back, people in a hurry to get home from their weekend, but I felt a certain sense of calm.

They weren't perfect, not yet, but a feeling in my gut told me that things were on a path to right themselves in my world. Another conversation with my dad that didn't involve my problems this time, rather his own stories of moving on, had given me some much needed clarity.

A few minutes after seven o'clock, the girls showed up together, their voices noticeable before they even got to the front door. Sam had passed out on his dog bed, lifting nary a paw at the commotion of their arrival.

"Hey, toots," said Alice as she came through the front door. Rose looked more wary, practically checking behind the front door like she was being set up or something.

I laughed. "I'm not gettin' my revenge just yet. Come on in, y'all want something to drink?"

Alice nodded. "Wine for me."

"Same," said Rose. "You need help?"

"I got it. Go park your butts in the living room and I'll be there in a minute."

I grabbed a bottle of a sweet white and three glasses, and the opener from its spot on the counter, and joined them. "God, I love this chair." Rose kicked off her shoes and snuggled down into the overstuffed cushions. "Makes me never want to leave."

"Yeah, well, you're going to have to if you're gonna go to work tomorrow." I placed their drinks on the coffee table and took out a memo pad in case there were any issues we needed to resolve—namely, the biggest one.

"Don't remind me."

Alice, already comfortable on the couch, pulled a face. "At least you don't have to be up at the butt crack of dawn to count stock."

Alice worked at one of the downtown clothing boutiques, a modern western wear place that catered to the younger set.

I slid onto the opposite side of the couch and raised my glass to her. "I don't envy you."

"_Any_way, what's up?"

"Well, seeing as you set me up . . . _again_ . . . I'm sure you know what Jasper talked to me about last night. And I think I'm ready to do this—"

"Ohmigod! Seriously? Lord above, she's seen the light. "

Rose let her squeal and carry on, but still eyed me like she was waiting for the catch. "Let me finish," I said, holding up my hands.

"Okay, okay." Alice rearranged herself on the couch so she could face me straight on.

"I _will_ do this as long as there are certain conditions laid down in the beginning so I know what to expect."

Rose took a sip of her wine. "We'd do that anyway. No one wants to go into this blindly."

"And that's good, and I'm glad we will, but I really, really mean that. After the stunt at the bar, I was about done, and I don't want to feel like that again. So no blindsiding me with things you _think _are for my own good when I'm just not ready for them."

"I can agree with that," said Alice. I looked over to Rose as she nodded her head.

"We're a team, though, and if there's going to be a conflict, I'd like to know no so we can nip it in the bud before it causes problems. So that means negotiations with them, and I think it'll be best if we go into it prepared."

"I know you think we're shrugging off your concerns, but we're not, okay? This isn't going to be easy, certainly not at first, but we _can _get through any hurdles." Rose sat forward in her seat. "And believe us when we say that we think you're strong enough to handle it, because you are."

"Thank you. In turn, I swear to not get my panties in a twist over the small stuff—snarkiness will be reserved for crucial moments. I want to do this with you guys because we've worked hard for it. If all of Jasper's lines were true last night, we'd have some creative control and, hopefully, an easy time for the most part."

Alice looked over at Rose, who scoffed and said, "What're you smoking? I don't know you."

I shrugged. "Shut up. I'm not always a raging bitch, okay? And let's just say I've had a little epiphany." "Before we go down _that _road, let's get our shit lined up, guys. So how do we handle this now?"

Alice, ever the peacekeeper, grabbed the memo pad from my hands. She could easily take care of all of the details, get everything settled for us through her DNA connection, but there was personal, and then there was business.

This was business, and we had to do it right. So we settled into our chairs and started dreamin' big. One glass of wine turned into two, and plans for work the next day turned into plans to call in sick. If things went well, we could take a permanent vacation someday, anyway. Voices rose and fell, and then turned into giggles, and for the first time in a week, my heart felt light as a feather.

At about ten I drained my glass and picked up my phone, sliding my finger across the screen until I punched in a number that, while not stored, I knew by heart.

"Hey." A sound of surprise greeted me, and I continued, "We want to set up a meeting."

~o~

* * *

_Thank you for your thoughtful and amazing reviews. Love to hear what you think._

_Song – Find Yourself – Brad Paisley_

_And thank you nicnicd for the incredible brainstorming sesh last night. Just made me more excited for things to come. You guys, she is the best._


	6. Chapter 6

_**Birds of a Feather**_

_**Chapter Six**_

_**BPOV**_

Time was a dangerous thing.

After hanging up with Edward two weeks ago, I'd felt good. The girls and I were finally in agreement about moving forward with the deal, and personally I felt a little better about it. But, with time to second guess, my worries had been left to fester while I came with a thousand different scenarios of things that could go wrong.

Now, taut as guitar strings, my nerves had worn on me the entire night and clear into the dawn, and I lay in bed fretting after a mostly restless night.

Sam whined uneasily from the hallway and I stood to let him out, chiding myself for drinking coffee last night. I'd thought a bit of writing would calm me down and the caffeine helped me focus, but now . . . well, now I wasn't looking forward to what would come later and didn't have the rest needed to prepare myself.

Not bothering with my coffee maker, I let Sam out, started the shower and headed back into my room to find something that I could wear to work—I had to go in for a few hours to see about a guitar Ben had scouted for Riley—and the meeting without looking like I was trying too hard.

And then I distracted myself by getting ready and puttering around the house. I left the news on while I started a load of laundry and did the dishes; I got frustrated when my eye makeup looked lopsided and redid it, only to find myself running late.

When I finally got to work, the store was quiet, though, as it should be on a Wednesday morning, and I let myself in to find Ben already behind the counter and going over some new arrivals.

"Hey, Boss."

"Mornin'."

"Did it come in?"

He inclined his head toward the work bench he used to clean and tune used instruments. "Yup. Right over there."

I moved over to the counter, excited about what I was going to find inside. "Did you open it?"

"Naw. I left it for you."

I grinned and split the packing tape with a box cutter, and then lifted the whole thing out of the cardboard box. The case was a simple black one, plastic as most of them were and nothing terribly exciting, but inside . . .

"Ooh! A poor man's Martin!"

Ben looked up from his ledger and laughed. "I guess you could call it that."

I took it out and gently ran my thumb over the strings, and then winced. "This needs tuned somethin' fierce."

"Not surprising. The fella I bought it from didn't play himself, he just buys and sells."

I huffed a little at that—guitars should be sold by people who loved them, in my opinion. Anyone else was just a piranha.

There was a couch in the corner of the store, a little out of the way and hidden from the windows, and I took the guitar over there and sat to tune it right. In no time I was running through a check of strings and sound and lost in my own little world.

"I like the sound." I stopped and moved to look at the construction. "Nice solid back."

"Yeah. Pretty good choice for a first guitar. Kid's gonna love it."

"What's the retail?" I bent my head over it to strum once more.

"About twelve hundred."

I stopped mid chord. "He can't afford that. I wanted to find—"

Ben held up his hand. "Not to worry. I kinda knew it was a special deal and this one had a blemish on it so small I'm told you won't be able to find it." He nodded to where I sat. "And obviously you haven't, either. I got a deal on it, so I'll give it to him for nine."

I smiled and played him a little Bluegrass. "You rock. You know that?"

"Tell my wife, would ya? I forgot I'd promised to take her out on Saturday and now she's as hot as a two dollar pistol. Still won't give me the time of day."

I tsked him. "You messed up. Better think of something good to make it up."

"Like with flowers?"

Personally, I loved flowers, and there was a time when I loved to receive them. But, over time, the sentiment had grown to mean less and less as did the meaning behind them. I set the guitar down gently beside me and leaned back on the couch.

"God, no. At this point that would dig you a bigger hole."

He furrowed his brows. "I don't get it."

"I can see that." I smirked at his consternation. "Flowers in that situation are more like a band aid, dude. The only thing I can tell you is actions speak louder than words. Show her." He pursed his lips and nodded his head a little.

I slapped my hands down on the sofa. "I'm stoked about this find. Lemme go and give him a call."

~o~

After leaving the shop, I met the girls for lunch at Marche for a little pre-war strategy session. Ready for something to quiet the butterflies in my stomach, I was looking forward to a savory crepe du jour.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't the woman in black. Going to Folsom, Bella?"

Rose's words made me look down at my outfit. Save for the red of my lips, a bit of blue polish, and white stitching on my boots, my palette wasn't exactly summer friendly.

"Changin' my name to Sue, too. Think it'll work?"

Alice groaned. "Y'all are weird. C'mon, I'm starving."

"No appreciation for the classics." Rose tried to muss Alice's hair, and got her hand smacked for it. "Oh, fine, you big baby. Let's go eat."

We sat down and started going over our list, again, with interruptions from Alice, who, intent on eating everything, made several trips to the counter.

"I have no idea where she puts it all," I mused, watching her go back for a pastry.

"I know," said Rose. "Not the case for me. Once past the lips . . ."

I nodded my head at her joke, but was too preoccupied to finish it for her. Instead I looked down at my hands, began picking at bubbles in my polish that were causing the whole thing to lift.

Should'a painted slower this morning.

"You doing okay?"

I focused on the part of my nail now visible and spoke. "Yeah, I think so. I've thought this over and over and over, and everything sounds legit. It would be ridiculous to be anything other than it is at this point . . . but I do wonder about—"

"Wonder what?" asked Alice, returning with her second tray.

I stopped myself, attempting to do my best to not rag on her brother in her presence.

"Oh, just what the contract stuff is about. Wondering if we need a lawyer."

The thought of paying another lawyer made me cringe for my wallet. I'd put a huge amount of my savings into an attorney last year and Jenks hadn't gotten me what I paid him for in the first place.

Alice cut her pastry into tiny bites and picked up a piece. "Today's about hearing their proposal and last minute negotiations if we get to that point. If we need an attorney afterward we can find ourselves one. I'm not too worried, though. If my brother tried to screw me over, he'd have to answer to Mama."

Rose laughed. "Um, I'd hate to be that boy, then, because she'd tan his hide."

I looked at the two of them as they giggled, and wished I could be comfortable joking about Esme. I missed Edward's mama so much—she was more a mother to me than my own growing up—but when things went south, she'd been firmly on her son's side, as she should be. So I kept my distance, and the loss rolled around like a lead ball inside.

Rose caught the look on my face and quickly changed the subject. "How 'bout them Yankees?"

"Don't worry about me, Rose. You know no matter what happens I love you girls. We can do this."

~o~

We decided to ride together to the studio and having the girls at my side made the ride seem easier. Alice prattled on about where she would like to tour first—California and the West Coast—and what kind of acts she'd love for us to hook up with. Rose threw in her two cents while I listened from the back.

And still, even with happy thoughts about and dream casting a tour, my stomach felt like it was going to riot at any second. I stared out of the at the road ahead of us instead and let their words become background noise to my own trepidations.

Above all, I wanted to do this for them. My daddy was right and there came a point where you had to put aside past hurts to move forward, but because I still didn't know what game Edward was playing at—and I knew him well enough to know he was up to _some_thing—I couldn't be as excited, yet, as they were.

Possibly because I was being so quiet, Rose stopped talking until she caught my eye in the rearview mirror and stared at me for a few seconds. She nodded to herself, and then began to sing.

"_This is the sound of one voice . . ."_

. . . and I had to smile. Alice joined her on the next verse and I on the third.

She'd done it to ease the tension—_my tension—_and it worked.

When we arrived, Rose pulled the Charger into the parking lot and took the space directly in front of the door.

"We're up and coming, why not?"

Unprepared for the sight of the brick building that looked more like a warehouse than an office, I gaped at the newly painted dark red doors. It looked unimpressive from the outside, and I wasn't sure that the inside could look much better.

"_This _is where we're supposed to be?"

"Wait until you see the inside," said Alice, completely ignoring my tone.

Skeptical, I followed them inside. Alice lead the way, breezing in through the front doors as if she already knew which way to go—of that I had no doubt, actually.

The space inside wasn't as ominous as it'd seemed from the sidewalk. An entryway with a round parquet design on the floor was lit by natural light from above. An empty, large front desk was directly in front of the doors. Metallic sculptures were here and there with a large abstract painting that resembled a skyline on the wall behind the desk.

The rest of the décor reminded me of the word _reclaimed_. Old beams crisscrossed the ceilings and faded brick walls. Heavy couches and a coffee table made from distressed wood sat off to the side with stacks of industry magazines to read while waiting to talk to someone.

On the one wall that separated the front from the back, subtle lighting highlighted framed and matted photos of various bands. I couldn't tell from where I stood, but I guessed they were ones associated with the label.

"Nice digs," I said. Rose echoed my sentiment.

Alice sounded smug when she said, "Told ya. C'mon, they're probably in the conference area."

Even I had to admit the place was nice. Not too fussy, not too slick, and just the right amount of impressive.

She led us toward the back where strains of music filtered through one of the doors. "Practice studio. The actual recording digs are that way," she said, pointing down another hallway.

I felt like a little girl out of her depths as she veered off to a red carpeted staircase wider at the bottom than the top, and as we reached the top I could see that this was where the offices were located.

Edward and Jasper had done well for themselves. It wasn't just some willy-nilly operation, that much was obvious, and it made me even more nervous than before.

The conference room was down yet another hallway and fronted by a set of double glass doors. A heavy oak work table, large enough to seat twelve, sat in the middle of another brick room. A wall of windows looked over the Nashville skyline.

Surprised by our sudden entrance, a girl tending to a coffee bar whirled around to face us. Her hair was short and spiky, and reminded me of the way Alice used to wear hers back in the day; gauges in her ears, metal loops in her nose and lip, tattoos, and the coolest boots I'd ever seen rounded out the whole rocker vibe. Curious as to whom she was, I let my gaze wander over the exquisite tattoo sleeves visible; intimate details in every color imaginable circled her arms in pretty flowered patterns.

Knowing how personal ink could be I touched the fabric that covered my own and dropped my gaze.

"Oh, hey! You're early."

"Yeah," replied Alice. "Traffic was easy. We'll just wait here if you don't mind."

"I'm sure that's fine. Have a seat, make yourselves comfortable. The coffee is fresh so help yourself and I'll let Jasper know you're here right away."

My eyes followed the young girl out the door and I looked back at Alice for clarification.

"That's Bree. She was hired to be the secretary, but there hasn't been time to assemble a full staff, yet, so she sort of ended up as Jasper's de facto assistant. She's great, though, and I think he'll probably hire her for it full time."

"You seem to know a lot about what's going on around here," I said, leaning in to look at a picture of the guys in concert.

"Well, of course I do." She rolled her eyes at me. "They've been in town for a while, Bella, and it is my brother's place, too. Jasper gave me a tour when the construction was done and I got the skinny on things."

"Yeah, he's still after her ass, too."

My eyes flew to Rose, and then back to Alice.. "Really? Still?"

Alice waved a hand and rolled her eyes. "He has been forever. Not interested."

While they bickered I wandered over to the coffee bar. As jittery as I already was I probably didn't _need _it, but I needed something to keep myself busy while we waited for the axe to drop. The window caught my attention when I was done and I went to look outside. The buildings around the studio weren't exactly screaming glamorous, industrial as they were, and it made sense, in a way. Save for the showy red door outside, the reasoning for the location fit into the plain and simple way the guys had always approached business.

I said a prayer that today would be so straightforward.

As I stood there, a black SUV pulled into the parking lot. When I saw who exited the driver's side I took a step away from the window so I wouldn't be so obviously watching if he happened to look up. Still, I could see an older guy exit the other side, and the blond who climbed down from the back seat, too.

The quick surge in my pulse almost kicked in the fight or flight response because, seeing as how I was in his space, I was at a disadvantage. I'd been trying to fight it off, but the building and the surroundings and everything else was just too much to ignore. The girls caught sight of me and Alice approached as Bree and Jasper filed into the room.

"Hey, we've got this," she said, rubbing my arm.

Fidgeting with my coffee cup, I nodded and watched Edward and his companions enter the room.

I couldn't help but stare. Last time I'd spoken to him in person he'd been slightly shaggy, the way he got sometimes when he had other things going on. Today his face was clean of stubble and his hair had been cut, too. Edward clean cut was a dangerous thing. A throat cleared, and I noticed everyone had started to sit down while I just stood there.

Irritated that I could let the sight of a nice face affect me, I took the last empty seat at the table—across from Edward, because that was just my luck—and reached in my bag for the list we'd made. When I glanced up from my things, I caught Edward's eyes on me. He looked away as soon as I noticed him watching me.

Jasper was the first to speak making introductions around the room. The guy who had come in with Edward was their representative Peter, an entertainment lawyer who worked with them in regards to the label.

I scooted my chair in, bumped my leg in the process. My eyes watered from the sting of it, and I reached down to rub it; meanwhile, I missed out on hearing the name of the chick Edward had arrived with.

"Thank you all for coming today," said Jasper. "We know this is a huge day for you and we appreciate the fact that you trust us to hear us out."

His formality eased my nerves, some. If they'd started out the meeting casually, like it was a done deal, I might have bristled, but a professional relationship was what I wanted, and so I appreciated his approach.

Jasper and Peter did most of the talking for their side, and the girls and I put our voices in when we wanted clarification. Edward remained focused on Jasper, chin tented on his fingers and occasionally looking around the room. I watched him from the corner of my eyes, skin buzzing with awareness when his gaze would land on me.

I tried not to look back, but every so often I did, and he would always look away quickly.

During one of those instances, the female suit leaned over to him and placed her hand on his arm. He bent his head to listen, taking in what she had to say, and nodded. My attention was focused on her fingers, which, until that point, had been tapping absently on a legal pad in front of her. Now they moved to his arm, squeezing it for just a moment before resuming the _tap-tap-tapping_.

The thrum of my pulse in my ears drowned out Jasper's next words and ruined my focus. I had no right to anger, not even a tiny little bit, and nor did I have the desire for it, but I was riveted to what I thought I saw there.

My fists balled on the table top until my nails cut into my skin, and I flexed my fingers. Edward must have caught the movement because he peered down at them, and then at my face, and stared at me wordlessly.

Peter spoke then. The woman straightened, handed him some papers, and watched him closely, making more notes as he spoke. I watched her with narrowed eyes and guessed that she was on the legal team, too.

I took a deep breath and told myself to calm it down, and focused back on the conversation. It wasn't my business if they were an item or not—if anything, it only made my desire to make this a wholly professional deal that much more ardent.

Peter was going over the monetary portion of the meeting now, offering us the money needed to cut the record . . . all up front and in our hands. He went on to discuss royalties and other items relating to the deal, and the room started to feel stuffy to me.

I was beginning to feel overwhelmed.

Then it was Edward's turn. My hackles slowly went up as I waited to hear his take. After the first few sentences, I found myself grinding my teeth as he threw out the phrases_ mutually beneficial, guided production, creative control _and, finally . . . _what's best for you. _

The last one set my teeth on edge. "Why do you feel you're the best person to 'choose' our final product?"

He turned his attention to me. "I know what I'm doing. My instincts haven't led us wrong yet, and I had final control over our last three albums . . . all of which have gone platinum."

"But our music covers a completely different genre. Are you sure you understand our audience?"

He leaned forward. "Of course we understand your audience. We grew up here same as you did, and that history is part of our own sound. I know the market, Isabella, and I know what you need to do to sell. "

My shoulders stiffened—he knew I didn't like being called by my full name like I was a naughty five year old in trouble with her mama. "Not everyone in the nation likes Bluegrass and Country."

"Well, quite a few of your original songs would easily translate to mainstream."

"How?"

"The quality of your music speaks for itself. And with a little more exposure we see it as a win-win."

"Who would be the bigger winner in that deal?"

There was a slight shifting of everyone in the room. Peter leaned over to take a drink of water; apparently he had been warned ahead of time of how this would likely go. What's-her-name watched me with an impassive expression.

"The idea is what's in it for you. All of you. This is a great opportunity for us to take a local talented band and give them exposure to a greater audience."

I pulled it back to what had set us off on this tangent. "While you decide 'what's best for us', right?"

Tension was as tight as a piano wire in the room and no one knew what to do next. Rose opened her mouth to say something but Jasper intervened.

"How about we take a break and get back to it in about twenty."

Uncomfortable with my own contempt, I immediately got up from my seat and walked into the hallway, Alice hadn't pointed out the restrooms earlier, so I took a guess at the nearest available door. Jackpot.

"Be nice if there was a sign," I said to no one.

The restroom was actually set up as a small lounge with two small private bathrooms off to the side. A larger countertop and mirror took up most of the space and I headed for it, leaning over to peer at my face.

It wasn't a minute before another the door flew open and the lounge suddenly seemed entirely too small.

Edward, eyes as fiery as I'd seen them in a while, staked over to me. "What the hell was that about?"

"You know what it was about. You. Always you and what _you_ want."

"You're being fucking ridiculous. This isn't about me, it's about you and Rose and Alice."

"You said it yourself! It'll benefit you, too. Are we a sure thing, Edward? Some novelty girl group meant to give your label some notice?"

"Trust me, sweetheart. We don't need the notice, we already have it."

I rolled my neck. "Of course you do. You've had all the attention you could stand for the past few years. Why not shovel some my direction now, huh?"

"God damn. Get the chip off your shoulder, okay, and stop acting like you're the only one who didn't get her way. I'm trying to help you out here, put something together for you guys so you can have something of your own to be proud of."

His words were a slap in the face. I jerked back at them, and I could tell when the double meaning sank in for him.

"Shit. Bella, I didn't mean it that way."

He reached for my arm but I took a quick step back. Once upon a time we'd talked about so many things—personal and professional, things we'd wanted to do as a couple and maybe even someday as a family—before our little fairytale had imploded.

My reflection in the mirror caught my attention, and the wild banshee look was not a good one for me. It made me realize how tired I was. Tired of looking like that, tired of feeling the way I did. I could see Edward in the mirror, too, face set in stone lines, eyes no longer raging and now empty.

It was true that a learned behavior didn't go away overnight, but I was ready for it to start disappearing. Looking away from him, I grabbed a tissue from a box on the counter and scrubbed under my eyes to remove the ring of black that had migrated during my hollering. I gave myself a moment to calm down before I said anything else that would only cause more discord.

Just then there was a knock at the door and Alice's voice called out, "Everything all right in there?"

"Yeah," said Edward. "We'll be out in a minute, Al."

A hesitation outside, a muffled 'okay' and her footsteps retreated from the door and down the hall.

"Why is this so important to you?" I asked in a softer tone, pinching my fingers on the edge of the counter to hold myself up.

He sighed. "Regardless of how we feel about each other, we need to get this done for everyone. All of the people who have supported us through all of our bullshit deserve something."

And, God, he was right. It was time for the bullshit to be done, and for us to act like adults. I'd been raw for so long that my defenses were an automatic thing by that point. The only person in the world who had the proven track record of undoing me stood not two feet away, and the urge to protect was strong.

I turned to look at him, squaring my shoulders. "If I agree to do this, there is something I want in return."

"What?"

"Sign the papers."

The muscles in his jaw worked but I couldn't read the look in his eye as he mulled it over.

"If you agree to do this, when everything is said and done, I'll sign the fucking papers."

~o~

* * *

_Thank you for taking the time to review. Your words mean the world. xo_

_Songs:_

_One Voice – Wailin' Jennys_

_ Judgement – HalfMoonRun_

_ Birds of a Feather – Civil Wars_

_nic - one week and we get to do this in person. Hee! xoxo_


	7. Chapter 7

_**Birds of a Feather**_

_**Chapter Seven**_

_**BPOV**_

For so long I had wanted to hear those words. They'd meant that all the pain, frustration and heartache would be behind us and it was okay to move on. Yet, for some reason, they fell heavy and only left me feeling empty.

When we completed our album, Edward and I would be done. Over. Fin.

Maybe it was because I had been holding on to my anger for so long that I didn't know how to be without it. Maybe the closing of that door was a slam that I hadn't been expecting and my ears were still ringing.

I said nothing and neither did he. We stared at each other, for once without the snide comments and prideful words we'd used like sword and shield for the past year.

Something inside me melted, my entire defense mechanism of keeping him at bay seemed as outdated as medieval weapons. He was finally attempting to meet me in the middle, and getting through this unscathed would require letting go of my hostility.

"Let's go back in there and get things wrapped up," he said quietly, turning to go without a backward glance.

To gain back some semblance of stability, I stayed in the bathroom for a few more minutes to splash some cold water on my face and take a few deep breaths . . . and then I walked into the meeting with my head held high. There wasn't another round of World War Cullen, and Charlotte, the lawyer whose name I had missed earlier, went over some of the finer details.

Her recommendation that we find legal representation for our own comfort was a good one, and Rose took down the names of firms not affiliated with their own. She was professional, kind, and I felt silly for getting worked up over her touching Edward earlier. It wasn't my business.

Her and Peter seemed to work well together, at least, one picking up where the other left off in legalese.

I didn't look at Edward when we left and I wasted no time in exiting the building. The girls did, however, and I stood by the car alone, body turned away from the building and the bright red door.

I'd showed my ass enough today. I was glad Daddy wasn't here to witness that one—he'd tan my hide and put me in time out.

"Well, after that craziness, I could eat a whole cow." Alice bumped my hip, pulling me out of my own head. "Let's go to that Mexican place you like so much."

"Okay. I think I'll make mine a margarita dinner."

Rose clucked her tongue. "This is how it starts. One day you're drinking your dinner, the next day you're trashing hotel rooms and getting us kicked out of venues."

That one made me laugh. I shut the passenger door and put on my seatbelt. "No way. If I'm going full tilt, I wanna get on stage at the Grammy's and tell everyone what I think of them. Better to be remembered that way than for ripping sheets and tossing televisions."

"Well, that's really something to aspire to. Aim high, Bella."

"I always do, Rose."

The rest of the car ride was calm; the girls kept the conversation cheerful and upbeat, and I said nothing about what had gone down in the bathroom. I'd tell them in my own time after I'd figured out what it was that I was feeling.

"Oh, guess what?" Alice piped up from the backseat. "Peter and Charlotte are_ married_; they just don't have the same last name. Told you there was something going on there."

Rose looked in her side mirror to move over. "How'd you find that out?"

"I asked Bree. His hand was on her back when we were leaving, so I had to find out."

"Leave it to you to get the goods."

Now I not only felt silly, but I also felt guilty. My traumas were making me crazy in the literal sense, apparently. Awesome. I checked out of the conversation then, turning my head to the window to watch the cars we passed. Normal people could live their lives without so much drama, so why was it that I couldn't?

The answer to that one wasn't easy to face, though. It required some soul searching and hard questions I wasn't ready for yet, and probably some answers that would put me into a shame spiral that wouldn't be conducive to being a participating member of society.

Feeling a hand on my leg, I looked to see Rose leaning over and smiling at me.

"Thank you," she said.

"For what?"

"For doing this. We'll make you proud. I promise."

I turned from the passenger seat to address them both. "You guys, I have absolutely no doubt in this world that we'll make a fantastic record. Most of what you saw in there was my own doing—my own issues and I see that now. It's time to move on and I'm doing my best for you, that I can promise. And I _am_ always proud of you."

Alice reached through the seat to lay her hand on ours and I laid another on top. This was a fresh beginning for all of us.

~o~

Over the next couple of weeks it became easier to get myself in the right mindset. The schedule was set up with Jasper outlining the prep work that we needed to start; the girls allowed me free reign to coordinate everything although I always made sure to check in for their approval.

The girls and I made a night of it one Friday evening. Bottles of wine were cracked, takeout was ordered, and we went over every song we had, trying to put together something cohesive and true to our style.

The next Monday, I met with Jasper over at the studio to go over song choices and music arrangements. Pulling in to the parking lot, I looked for the now familiar black SUV and breathed a sigh of relief when it was nowhere to be found.

My dealings with Edward after the meeting were true to what we'd agreed upon. He was there at the office sometimes, but he only came around when he absolutely had to. There were no more blowups, no more digs, and nary a word about our shattered marriage.

Bree was at the front when I arrived.

"Hi, Bella. It's nice to see you again."

"Hello. Just in for a meeting with Jasper before we start recording."

"I'm excited to hear what you all come up with. The guys said you're a fantastic band, and I know they're looking forward to getting your stuff on the radio. Jasper cleared his schedule for you today, so you can go right on back."

"Oh, thanks," I said, taken aback by her enthusiasm.

. . . and also by her casual use of 'the guys'. I wondered if she was just buttering me up.

"Well, I'll see you later. Don't work too hard, now."

She laughed. "Yeah, I wish I could say I won't, but that's a damn lie."

I left her to it and headed for Jasper's office. He was on the phone when I came in, and I hovered in the door until he waved me in. While he finished up his call, I dug around in my bag for the list of songs and a pack of gum.

"Sorry, couldn't put that one off."

I waved my hand. "No worries. Got our list here."

He held out his hand and I gave him the paper. We'd made a rough demo ages ago that he had, so he knew some of them, but the others he wanted to hear first to see what session musicians would be needed, or what would fit best.

"I want it to be organic, very true to your sound, but still clean. This is a great jumping off point though," he said, waving the list. "Do you have others as well?"

I panicked. "Why? Won't this be enough?"

"It's kind of the bare minimum. We'd like you to have a few extra in case something doesn't fit with the rest of the songs."

"Oh, well," I said, rummaging through my purse. "I have a few things that are unfinished, kinda raw really. I could work on those and you can see what you think."

"That would be great." He made a note and moved a few papers around. "So, how come Rose and Alice didn't show up with you today?"

I smiled. Someone was fishin' for some info. "Well, they trust me with this stuff and we've talked about it. They made the list with me on Friday. Plus, Rose is still trying to work as much as she can before she finally quits. Those kids mean a lot to her."

He nodded his head, but I knew who he was really askin' about.

"And Alice isn't goin' to just show up all willy-nilly to make cow eyes at you, you know. She'll be here for the sessions."

His eyes got wide. A sure telltale sign.

"I didn't—"

"We all know you've been keen on her forever, and I also know she ain't fixing to bite until there's a thread of seriousness there. She ain't that type."

"So, if I don't profess my love, I'm shit outta luck?"

"Not what I'm sayin', now is it? Give it some time and thought, and you'll understand. You're not an idiot."

He stared me down. "You give good advice."

I shrugged. "Too bad I can't follow it myself."

"Speaking of . . . How are you doing with all of this? It can't be easy, but you've been pretty mellow lately."

"It's not easy, but this isn't just about me, either. Edward and I . . . well, we've called a truce, for now. We'll deal with our issues later."

"I'm gonna give you my word again that we'll treat you right and give ya the best we've got. I want you to trust us."

"I know that, really, I do. I've got faith that everything will be handled as it should be."

He smiled and picked up another piece of paper. "Tell me about this one, I haven't heard it yet."

~o~

Our first day of studio work was exciting; I showed up more bright eyed and bushytailed than ever, an excess of coffee not even needed. I wasn't new to studio work, I had sat in with the guys' sessions in the early days and knew what to expect: an initial period of letting us play our songs live, with some long waiting periods while rough cuts were reviewed and details discussed. Then we'd do it all over again with the edits in place and the mixing people at the boards.

During one such long stretch, Alice got down on the Persian rug in between songs and performed a few yoga moves to stretch herself out. Downward dog was clearly Jasper's favorite because he flat couldn't take his eyes off of her rump. I snickered to myself and thought he better cut that shit out—Edward was here today, quiet and observing and trying to stay out of the way, but she was still his sister.

I fell onto the couch with my acoustic to work on my latest song.

"Ooh, I like that," said Rose. "Got any lyrics yet?"

"I did, but I don't want to use them."

"Why?"

"Eh, personal stuff. Sometimes I just throw that in while I'm writing the tune. Kinda therapeutic."

"I'd love to hear it."

My eyes went to the light that indicated whether or not the mic was live, and I saw that it, thankfully, wasn't. Still, though . . . "Not right now."

Rose turned around to look. "Ah. Well, play it for me and I'll see what I can add."

I proceeded to play the song for her and we found our rhythm and melody together. Alice tapped her foot as she lay on the ground listening, her hand wrapped around a music stand and fingering a non-existent fiddle. I looked up again and the guys in the booth had turned their attention on us as well.

The light was back on, too.

Rolling my shoulders, I tuned them out and focused on the girls and my guitar. When I didn't think about who was out there, I was okay, and we jammed for a few and made up things as we went. By the time I hit the last chord we were smiling at each other, humming along . . . and the booth started clappin'.

Edward was leaning against the door still, arms folded across his chest and a smug look on his face.

Punk.

For that briefest of moments, everything felt normal. I could hear him in my head telling everyone that his girl had a voice prettier than river water, that she could make them wish they had half of what she did.

I heard him telling me he'd sign the papers, too. Heard a door closing, and looked up to see that he'd left the room.

Jasper whooped and shouted as he approached the window, leaned into the mic on his side. "That's what I'm talkin' about."

"We can keep working on it," I called, shaking off my melancholy, "make it one of the go-to songs if necessary."

"Perfect. Let's get back to the first set and go from there."

~o~

The next day we were booked for studio time, Jasper had lined up a few musicians to help us round out our sound for three of our songs. I was sitting in the booth when in walked Paul, the drummer of their band.

"Hey, you!" I said getting up to give him a big hug. "It's been so long!"

"Hi Darlin', you look good," he said when he pulled back.

"You down here to slum with us?"

"I wouldn't call it slummin'. Jasper here played me a demo of your stuff. I'd be honored to play on your record. Heck, I miss playing the small gigs anymore."

"Well, we're glad to have ya."

There was a loud voice out in the hallway and I no sooner recognized it when the owner of it appeared in the doorway.

"What's he doing here?"

"Aww, Bella, you want to greet an old friend like that?" Jake said, zeroing in on me.

"I'd prefer not to greet you at all."

"I'm sorry to hear that. I came all this way to see what my boys were up to and here I find you. Imagine that, right in the center of it."

Jake was the epitome of herpes: something that would never go away. Not wanting to deal with his shit, I turned to look for an escape and caught Jasper's eye. He knew firsthand what a pain in the ass Jake could be. Jerk needed his own full time wrangler to keep him out of trouble.

Things between Edward and me were bad, sure, but at least we'd gotten along once and were trying to stay out of each other's way now. Jake and I, however, had never seen eye to eye and we mixed about as well as oil and water did. Maybe even worse. The sooner he was away from me the better; my blood pressure was making my ears hotter than blue blazes.

Jasper came to my rescue.

"Dude, enough. We've got work to do."

"I won't be in the way, I swear." He gave me his best Cheshire cat smile.

Jasper replied by telling all of the observers, "Closed session, people. Musicians only. I'll catch up with you when we're done."

"Well, fuck, guess I'll call Ed and see if he wants to go hit the town." He winked at me and made his exit out the door.

The fucker took every chance he got to dig and irritate me. One of my huge issues when Edward and I were together was Jake. Always wanting to party always and on the make. Edward, I had trusted. Jake, on the other hand, I did not.

"Want a few minutes?" asked Rose.

"No, I'm fine."

"Your face is red."

"I have an allergy," I said, coughing. "To Jake."

She busted up laughing "I'm not sure if I can help you with that one."

"I don't think anyone can."

She moved next to me to pick up her instrument. "Trust me, I can't stand that asshole either. Something about him just makes my skin crawl."

"Yeah, it's probably the sleazeball vibe he puts off. Ugh. I just _know _he didn't come down here for a visit. Always a motive with that one, and it's probably not a good one, either."

"Why do you say that?"

I scoffed. "He never shows up unless he wants something. When Edward and I lived in New York he was always freeloading off of us, always needed a hand. For a while I thought I was married to both of them."

"Ew."

"Oh, shut up. I didn't mean it like that, just that wherever we went, there he was. I never understood why Edward always felt so obligated to him."

"He's part of the band, dude. They always seem to treat each other like family. Bros before hoes and all that."

"I can't believe you just said that," I said, smacking her arm. "I'd be the hoe in that situation, and my daddy raised me better. Anyway, I don't know, he's really possessive of Edward's time. It's something we fought about a lot."

"I didn't know that."

I sighed. "I don't go broadcastin' my business. Just know that there were a lot of things that added up to make things so fragile at the end."

She slung her arm over my shoulder, nodded at Alice, who was out in the booth reading Jasper the riot act. "I'm sorry I pushed you."

"You were just trying to help. I don't think anyone understood how badly I was hurting, and it's the past, now. Things are looking up, and I'm tryin' to not focus on the bad. Making this record feels so good to me, like it's nourishing my soul. Does that make sense?"

"Absolutely."

After that, we worked well into the night.

Jake never reappeared nor did Edward and I found myself wondering why.

~o~

The next day in the studio, there were a few tracks that Jasper wanted to re-do lead vocals on. Because everyone else had been working so hard, and my parts were the only ones that were pertinent, the girls took a day off.

In between takes, I sat on one of the couches and worked on one of the extra songs. I might have balked the other night about singing it in front of everyone, but with such a skeleton crew, I felt comfortable letting some of my words out.

_Sweet like a kiss, sharp like a razor blade_

I liked the sound of the melody as it wafted through the empty studio. The lyrics flowed as I played out my in song, I let it fly while Jasper and the sound guy argued over a take we'd just finished. I closed my eyes and let my voice do what it wanted to.

A tap on the window that separated the sound board from the room I sat in made me look up, and I looked straight into Edward's face.

In the same doorway he'd hovered around the last time I'd seen him, he stood with his hands in his pockets and a thoughtful expression on his face. Jasper, who'd been the one to knock on the window in the first place, said something to him and turned back to me.

"We're going to be a bit longer. I was going to let you know you could go get something to eat if you wanted."

I shook my head. "I'm not hungry. I'll just hang out in here if that's okay?"

He hesitated, looking back at Edward. "If you're sure . . ."

"It's fine," I said.

He nodded and I noticed that the light went off over the mic, so I looked back down at my guitar and began picking out the melody I'd just been playing.

The lyrics I'd been singing were a direct reflection of my feelings for Edward, and it made me embarrassed to know he'd heard even a little bit of them.

The door opened and I looked up, froze.

"I really like that one. Nice arrangement."

"Thanks. Just trying to put a few extras together just in case."

"Well, that one should definitely be in the mix."

I sat my guitar on my knees. "You think?"

"I do."

He approached me cautiously, as if I were a bird about to fly away. "Mind if I sit?"

I tried to look around him. "Jake with you?"

"No. Contrary to popular belief, he doesn't go everywhere I do."

"Oh. Sure seems like it." I waved a hand for him to sit down.

Truthfully, I had no say in what he did with his life anymore, but I couldn't help it. We were still connected by feelings, words and a marriage license.

He crossed his arms on his knees. "What else are you working on?"

I still felt self-conscious about my music around him, so I hedged my words. "Something that I need to re-do."

"Let me look at what you have."

Nervous, I looked down and ruffled the papers my lyrics were scrawled on. Some of the edges were ragged from use and age, bent and ripped, taped back together.

It was an apt description of their owner, too.

The lyrics on all three songs I had written down were exclusively about us, and I wasn't sure I was ready for him to hear them. I set the papers down on the side furthest away from him.

"This isn't what I wanted, which is why I'm sitting down to rework it," I said, sounding shorter than I'd intended.

He sighed, and I could see him trying to be patient. "If not that one, then show me another one."

I closed my eyes, told myself to stop being so snippy. He wasn't picking at my open wounds, and it would be ridiculous to refuse his help; the talent in his own work spoke volumes. Shuffling a few of my notes, I handed the papers to him, repositioned my guitar, and strummed the first few chords of the intro.

"This the first line?"

Still reluctant about sharing, but knowing I was going to anyway, I frowned at him but sang him the few words I had.

_He's the one I see right through_

"Play me a few bars until you reach the chorus."

I started from the beginning, not looking at him even after the final note had faded into nothing.

He got up and walked over to pick one of the acoustics up that was leaning against the wall. And thenrepeated exactly what I had played. If there was one thing about Edward that even my negative outlook couldn't deny, it was that he was truly gifted as a musician and a songwriter. He picked up things easily, and knew where they should go next.

He stopped, hummed a few bars, and then started again.

_Where she walks, no flowers bloom_

He nodded at me to continue.

I sang the words I had given to him only moments before as he played this time. It wasn't long before I knew where he was headed with this—and it was fucking brilliant.

_She's the absinthe on my lips_

I smiled and shook my head. My body started to hum in a way I hadn't felt in so long.

_A splinter in my fingertip_

And now we stared at each other, challenging one another over the best line.

When we reached the point of the chorus, he asked me to play that for him without the original lyrics. He listened intently, then played it for me singing softly back while looking at the neck of his guitar.

_But who could do without you?_

The weight of his words pierced right through my heart, and it was so, so obvious to me that he knew that, too. He knew what he was doing.

It was a hard thing to accomplish, but I kept my face straight, professional. Cold.

Inside, though, I was absolutely giddy. I didn't realize what a high it would be to write alongside him, and the next two hours passed with us perfecting lyrics and music, and not saying a single mean thing to each other.

I'd sung around Edward before; he'd sung in front of me many, many times. It wasn't a new thing for me to see him put together a song from next to nothing. What was new, though, was the fact that our voices played off each other extremely well, because we'd never taken the time to write music together as a team.

Part of me wondered how we had wasted that time together, something so crucial that could have made our bond stronger. But I guessed none of that could happen when you spent most of your time apart.

I took a deep breath. "So," I said hesitating a little. "This is really, really good, I think. I could probably use a duet partner for this."

He leaned back on the couch, putting the guitar down next to him. "Well, I can get Marcus or Dmitri to back you up. They're both great and I think they're available. Marcus isn't touring right now and Dmitri is in between projects."

"Oh, okay."

Looking down at my hands, I picked at a scratch I'd gotten the night before while playing tug-of-war with Sam. It hurt to know we were so far gone that, even though we'd seemed to at least be tolerating each other, he could so easily toss me to a new partner on a song he'd helped build up.

Maybe I couldn't really blame him—I hadn't exactly been a peach to him, and more time together would probably just end badly, anyway.

I looked back to see him getting up to leave.

"You're taking off?"

"Yeah, I've got a few things I need to do. But I really enjoyed that just now."

"Thank you," I said. "Your input was brilliant."

"Have a good session." He smiled, but it was forced, and left the room.

~o~

* * *

_Love your comments – yes, every single one. xo_

_Songs – Bring me Down – Miranda lambert_

_Birds of a Feather – Civil Wars_

_Busy week. Nicnicd gets all the kudos in the world for betaing two pieces for me: This chapter and a Part of Me prequel for the Fandom4LLS compilation to come out soon. Please go and donate. There are a lot of amazing authors from several different fandoms participating._


	8. Chapter 8

_**Birds of a Feather**_

_**Chapter Eight**_

_**BPOV**_

Perhaps it was Karma for stepping foot into another attorney's office after I had promised to never do so again, but the morning was droning on and on, and not a bit of it was going in my favor. First I dumped my coffee, ruining my outfit and sending me back to the shower and closet; Sam threw up on the floor next; and then, as I was getting into Alice's vehicle, I broke a heel off on my shoe. She waited patiently through my drama, happy and talkative as was her fashion.

"So, you ready to go now, or do you maybe want to go see if climbing onto your roof produces more hilarity?"

"Way my day is goin', I'd just as soon crawl back in bed, thank you very much."

"It's too pretty a day to spend in bed alone," she said, backing out of my driveway and heading for the highway.

"Well, seeing as how that unless I let Sam bedhog me, I'm sleeping alone anyway, I don't rightly care much."

She dropped that subject and chattered instead about the lawyer we were going to see. After vetting Charlotte's referrals, we'd made a group decision to pick a representative with the moxie needed for whatever we might face during this process. Rose had to work, so Alice and I were going to meet with the lawyer.

The office was small and bland, all dark wood floors, white walls and chrome accents. The receptionist was cold, too, so efficient at her job that she barely had time to show us where to sit. And the lawyer, Jane, was downright intimidating.

"What made you want to start this project without representation in the first place?" she asked, her eyes following the way my fingers fidgeted in my lap.

It was like sitting in the principal's office and knowing you were about to get sentenced to a day of detention—it was better than outright suspension, but you were still gonna get in trouble when you got home.

Alice and I looked at each other, and I cleared my throat."Well, we know them quite well, you see, and we figured we could get things started and hammer out the details at a later date."

Jane slid her half glasses up her nose and squinted at the bottom of the page she was holding.

"No, no, no. This clause needs to be taken out entirely."

I swallowed hard, worrying that we had made the wrong move . . . Jane might have been small, but she was also pretty intimidating.

Alice sat up straight, squared her shoulders. "One half of the company happens to be my brother, and I highly doubt he would try to screw me over."

Jane set down the contracts she was reading and jabbed at it. "This needs to be tight—especially because it's family, and, as I understand it—" her eyes landed on me "—soon-to-be ex-spouses are involved. Better to be over cautious now than to have trouble later."

I shrugged at Alice and she pursed her lips. As uncomfortable as Jane was making me, I wondered if there wasn't something to be had with hard-nosed lawyers. Jenks, who'd handled my divorce, was not so intense, and Lord knew where that had gotten me: a year later and I was still married.

"How difficult will it be to change this?"

Jane sighed. "Probably not much. I've worked with Peter before, his wife not so much since her hiatus. Let me rework this and I'll get back to you in a few days after I've contacted them."

We said our goodbyes and left the office feeling a little better about the paperwork.

"Damn," Alice said, "she scares the hell outta me."

"Not me. I think she'll be able really wing it when she needs to. I'll tell you this, though: I'm not gonna get on her bad side." I linked Alice's arm in mine and we headed toward the parking lot.

~o~

Later that afternoon I was back in the studio to listen to some tracks that Jasper had worked with over the weekend. We were mulling the levels of the background vocals when Edward breezed through the doorway.

Two weeks ago I would have raised hell about him being around too often, or overstepping the bounds we'd agreed to, but I was slowly becoming accustomed to his presence again. He was there a bit more often than I'd anticipated, yes, but he was also professional about it. Cold, even . . . and very unlike the man I knew. Somehow it made it easier to be around him.

"Morning."

"Hey."

"What are you guys working on?"

Jasper leaned forward to play the track again. "Can't decide whether I want it to sound like a full harmony or not. When I do, it's too bright and drowns Bella out, so I was thinking about using composite tracks."

"Lemme see your take sheet." He took a seat across from me, and Jasper handed him a piece of paper. "Go ahead and play the first one."

It wasn't new to see Edward in the studio, not when I'd been there for the first two albums being recorded, but it was absolutely weird to watch him concentrating so hard on _my_ music. He looked so serious—forehead all scrunched together, brows almost becoming one—that I had to laugh. And even though I often did it myself, and therefore had no room to talk, his habit of biting on his thumbnail still irritated me, apparently. He'd catch himself every once in a while and look at me, and then away, and when he did he always stopped biting his nail.

Strange how long it takes old habits to die.

The first song was played a few times, each listen getting more tweaks until it sounded so good I almost wanted to cry. I marveled at how easy this was for him, how much his suggestions had improved the song.

"Nice." Jasper stretched his arms over his head when they were finished. "I might want to have you give the rest of these a quick listen before we make any more changes."

We spent the next hour listening to the songs we had laid down over the last couple of weeks. A few parts made me self-conscious: the sound of my voice there . . . and there, too . . . or the all-too-telling lyrics in that song. Edward remained stoic, listening and suggesting changes, nodding his head or tapping his feet in other spots.

When we were finished, he leaned back and rocked onto the legs of his chair. I waited for him to say something, but he just looked off over my head, a considering look on his face. I looked over to Jasper for a hint of anything, but he was watching Edward.

"You hate it," I said.

"No." He pursed his lips. "I'm hearing two distinct sounds here, old and new. Both sound fantastic, but I think, here, you need to go with one or the other, or blend it . . . and I'm pushing for the blended."

I looked down at my left hand, at the spot where I could no longer make out an indent from my ring, and opened my mouth to protest. Rose, Alice, and I had picked out these songs as something we wanted to represent us. They were good songs.

He rubbed his hand over his knee and sighed. "Hear me out, because I know you're about to argue with me, Bella. What's so unique about your trio is that you have your own twist on old country, and the music is there. We could make a great album with these songs, but if you'd use the newer stuff, it would be fantastic. Award worthy and a lot of 'best new artist' buzz would be behind it. "

My cheeks heated, the compliment not one I was expecting, and I sat up straighter to look him in the eye. "What are you saying?"

"Well, there's no rush or timeline to get this done, right?"

"That's entirely up to you now, isn't it? You're the one paying me for this."

He winced. "Put that way, you're right. We all want this to be something good for you guys, and I think that, because you're on a roll, you should give us some more of your original works to record."

"I don't know if I can."

He leaned forward. "I know you can. Your work is fucking amazing."

Long after he stood and walked from the room, I watched the closed door, my response in danger of swimming to the surface. Edward's words of praise today were not expected, and I wasn't sure what to make of them, either.

"He's right, you know. He always seems to articulate what's just on the tip of my tongue. He has a good ear for this, and I think you should trust him, Bella."

The musician in me was excited by the challenge of creating new music, but since most of my songs came from the pit of my belly, I was conversely petrified. I closed my eyes, at once feeling like I was at the top of a cliff looking down into waters that swirled as furiously as my emotions.

I took a deep breath, exhaled. "How long do I have to do this?"

"As long as you need, but I'd like to get it wrapped up by the end of the year. There are other things to coordinate here when we get to that stage: promotion, interviews, tours , gettin' you girls makeovers . . ."

I tossed a pen at his head and it hit him on the arm.

"Ouch!"

"Like that hurt. And y'all aren't messing with our faces or clothes, or making us look like Barbie dolls, so get that out of your mind right now. As for the rest of it, I need to wrap my head around this a little bit. You need me here the rest of the week?"

"No, it should be fine."

"Good. Listen, I'm gonna take off for a few days, see if I can't give you guys what you want."

~o~

There were a few calls to be made before I could pack. First to Ben about some time off; next to a rental agency about booking a place for a quick retreat; last to the girls to see if they could meet me for the weekend. Last minute, a call came back from the agent—there was a little farm house thirty minutes south of Nashville in Leiper's Fork available, and they even allowed dogs.

"Pack up your toys, Sammy boy. We're going to the country."

Bags packed and Sam sitting shotgun, I revved my engine and left the city behind.

A private driveway greeted me as I made my last turn of the trip. Tree lined and gorgeous, the path took me on a roundabout way that was as comforting as anything had been in the last couple of months. The farmhouse at the end of the lane was ideal; all wraparound porch and sprawling lawn, overgrown pond and outdoor fireplace. Writing sessions surrounded by such beauty would be plentiful, and the time to myself before the girls arrived would be good for my soul.

It was perfect.

The first couple of days were spent lounging in bed. The physical toll taken by recording and being on the go all the time, as well as other dramas adding to the mental toll, had been more than I realized, and I shut off my brain for a few days to reset my frame of mind so I could write.

Sam was in absolute heaven as my only companion and the man of the house; he woke me in the morning to get fed and go outside, and was welcome company the rest of the day curled around my feet. When I wanted to go on a walk he was game for it, chasing the ball I threw until he was hot and tired. He'd end up in the pond under the shallow surface, drinking water as he cooled down. It was a dog's life.

The screened porch was my favorite place to settle in for the rest of the day. I'd lounge reading books that I'd been wanting to for so long. Romances were my favorite, even in spite of my current climate, and I delved into the drama of others for a change.

It wasn't until I'd run across a story where the two main characters were deeply in love with each other and unable to find a way to be together, that my heart swelled inside of my chest until it burst. A gut-wrenching sob-fest that lasted a good hour followed, and at the end I felt better for it.

The story ended neither sad nor depressing, but hopeful, and I felt cleansed by it. Being so moved by someone else's words gave me an idea of what I needed to do.

It was time to start writing.

~o~

The rumbling sound of the Charger coming up the lane sent me out on the porch to greet Alice and Rose. Sam was already at the car wiggling around their legs and letting them know how happy he was to see faces beside my own.

"Traitor," I muttered.

Alice shouted, "Hey, girl. How did you wrangle this? It's beautiful!"

"A hell of a lot of luck. Last minute cancellation on someone else's part was the ticket."

"Wow." She came up to stand beside me on the porch and looked around the property as Rose pulled out their bags and her guitar. "Hell, I'd be willing to move down here full time."

I grinned. "Wait until you see the inside."

A mini tour of the place elicited _oohs _and _ahhs _a'plenty, and I was pleased at the luck of finding this place. They got settled into their rooms and then the wine was flowing and the gossip was good. When it got to supper time I grabbed a plate of cheese and fruit I'd bought on the drive up and brought it out to the porch and a pitcher of sangria.

Here were a cluster of chaise lounges arranged in a loose circle out there, and I settled into my own and passed Alice her glass to free up the small table.

"Thank you, darlin'. Would you mind getting me more ice cubes?"

Rose flipped up her sunglasses. "Really? Do you want her to peel your grapes next?"

Alice leaned back and closed her eyes. "Not a bad idea."

Rose threw her napkin and it covered Alice's face. "Get it yourself. Anyway, Bella, have you written us a Grammy worthy record yet?"

"Nah, but I think you'll be pleased. The sound is a little different, but it's nice, too. I was thinking that while we were here we might work on some of the newer songs, actually . . . "

Alice paused with a glass halfway to her mouth; Rose sat up and threw her sunglasses at her feet. "No shit? What's up with the sudden burst of creativity?"

I shrugged and looked down at my toes. I'd painted them bright blue on Monday and they were chipped already. "Dunno. I think . . . well, a little break was needed to see what they were trying to tell me."

Alice rattled her glass. "What who was trying to tell you?"

"Jasper. And Edward."

They tried to be sly about it, but I still saw them exchange sidelong glances.

I sighed. "Jasper and I spent some time in the studio last week going over the tapes, and Edward joined us sometimes. He liked some of the things he heard . . . and some of them not so much. He and Jasper think we should work on the new stuff for a while and put it in place of some things we've already agreed on."

"And you booked this place so we could work on them?" Rose didn't seem mad, at least, but her continued shock that I might be willing to let go a little bit told me more than I needed to know about how bad I'd been the past year.

"Well, yeah . . ."

"I'm not surprised he made some sense finally," Alice said, calling our attention back to her. "He's been immersing himself in the behind the scenes stuff for a long time, now. He picked it up like it was nothing."

"I wish I had the knack to get it right the first time and not make a butt load of mistakes. Would have saved a lot of heartache."

Rose flicked the sweat from her glass at me, and then focused an intense look on me. "Yeah, but you don't become who you are unless you make mistakes along the way."

"I think you're talking about something else now, aren't you? Is this another ambush?"

"Don't get all defensive here," she said, "You invited us, duh. Even I'm not good enough to talk you into ambushing yourself. But, since we're here in this beautiful house, what better time than to work some of this shit out?"

". . . And I'm going to need some more wine. Shit's gonna get deep." I pushed off my chair with my fists, and Alice hopped up in front of me.

"I'll get it."

Rose leaned over and stared me down. "We love you and only want the best for you. That's the only reason we ever pushed you into doing it."

"All orchestrated by my husband, of course."

"Oh, please. I'm going to be blunt with you here: You've been upset with us for a while, and long before this. Because we love you and know that you're dealing with some heavy shit, we let you deal in the way you wanted and didn't say anything until we had to. The only reason any of us pushed you into getting some help was that we saw you slipping away and it scared the ever living shit out of us."

I leaned back and shook my head remembering that argument. "I pulled out of it on my own."

"The point is you didn't have to. You have so many people that love you and there's nothing we wouldn't do for you."

Alice handed out glasses and sat down next to me, jumping into the conversation like she'd already been listening. "She's right. There's not one person, including every member of my family, who wouldn't have gone to the ends of the earth for you. But you kept everyone at bay. We shouldn't have let you do it for so long."

One would think that by now I'd be used to the tightening in my chest, as familiar as it was, but the bands of pain that held me together still hurt so much.

"Come to think of it, I don't think you could have made me talked until I was ready." I set down my wine glass to pull up my knees and rest my head. "I was so overcome by my emotions that I wasn't able to see straight. Involving other people wasn't what I wanted."

"What's making it easier to talk about now?" Alice reached out to grab a piece of my hair and twirled it around her finger.

I shrugged. "Time. Learning not to blame myself so much. Insulating myself by being so, I don't know, _acidic, _was a protection thing, you know? If I could keep it on lockdown I wouldn't come unraveled." I sighed and looked at them. "Even the most heavily armored shoulder has a weak point."

Alice clucked her tongue. "And your Achilles heel happens to be my brother."

"Bingo."

"Well, seeing as how you've opened this door let me tell you this straight up. From my vantage point, both of you are hurting in the most unimaginable way possible. You're equally stubborn and you both think your way of dealing with it is the best way. And because the both of you are mules, neither can see the right way of going forward. And it's funny that both of you chose to throw yourselves into work and forget about the world around you. Birds of a feather, swear to God."

I wanted to ask about other things, but I was too chicken to. Much as I said it was no longer any of my business, there was still part of me that feared it hadn't taken him much time to move on from me.

"And before you ask, there was no one else."

Not wanting to go there just yet, I let the topic pass. Volleying new feelings versus old inside my head, and not deciding which side I was on yet, I stayed quiet as the topic moved back into hometown gossip. The sun had started to set before I shook myself from my thoughts.

"You guys hungry?"

"Famished. What's on the menu?"

"Chopped Salad. Everything's ready to go."

"Yum. Let's get this bad boy together."

The rest of the night was breezy: just old friends catching up and reminiscing, topics as easy as air. I lay awake in bed long into the night, though.

When I moved back home, Edward hadn't complained a bit. We'd already talked about how hard for me it was to be there when he was busy or gone, especially when I couldn't be out on the road with him all of the time, either. So he got me settled back home in Nashville and left for New York. I'd spent hours redecorating the house the way I thought would suit us. Times I'd get so excited about a room being done that I would try to call him to tell him, but he was always in session with his band or working with someone on a new project. Neither of us were much of ones for texting, though, and so our talk time grew almost nonexistent.

Or occasionally Jake would answer and rile me up so bad that I wasn't looking forward to talking to anyone by then, let alone a husband who was too busy for us to start with.

~o~

On Saturday, us girls spent most of the day going over the new material I had written. Rose had ideas for melodies that would work, and Alice hummed parts for her fiddle. They were excited about the new direction, and more than a little impressed, if I did say so myself, about the scope of topics covered by the new lyrics.

After dinner we settled around the outdoor fireplace. There was a great little seating area there, and though it was too warm yet for a fire, a stack of lit candles in the grate and the glow from nearby columns lent a nice ambiance to our outdoor jam session.

"I'm stoked about this," Rose said. "It's all so fresh and heartfelt."

"Yeah, once I started it was kind of a geyser that wouldn't turn off."

"Well, you sure got a good, solid feel here. I'd make this my girl anthem album." Alice nodded like it was a done deal, and we all laughed at her deadpan face.

Another bundle of my tortured ties broke and righted themselves as we played on into the night. The breeze coming from the trees was as soft as my thoughts, warm as the pleasant alcohol buzz that worked its way through my limbs, loosening them until I felt like one of the leaves in the wind.

I took a big drink of my doctored-up coffee. "Thank you, guys."

Rose shook her head. "I think we should be the ones thanking you. This is really freakin' good, Bella"

"No, not just about the songs. I mean for everything; for sticking through the hard times, for not giving up on me when I probably would have given up on you."

"Fat chance. We know you better than that."

"You know, I think . . . I think I've had sort of an epiphany over the last week. I'm ready to move out of this funk."

Rose smiled, strumming her guitar while Alice got up and hugged me.

~o~

* * *

_A/N: I haven't been able to reply much of late, but love every single word you've given me in your reviews._

_For those of you who are wondering, I don't recall mentioning cheating in this story…at all._

_Song - Ghosts That We Knew – Mumford & Sons_

_And I feel so lucky to have my beta and friend, nicnicd, sitting here next to me this week. The time and energy she gives to me is unreal. I am very honored and thankful for everything she does. xo _


	9. Chapter 9

_**Birds of a Feather**_

_**Chapter Nine**_

_**BPOV**_

Usually I loved my job; there were always regulars in the store to talk shop with, or new stock to try out. Ben was a cool guy to work for and I liked giving lessons. Today, though, I felt restless. Currently I was parked on the couch with a guitar in my lap and strumming chords from the songs the girls and I had worked on over the weekend.

My mind was anywhere but focused on work—I really wanted to be in the studio.

I sighed and shifted the guitar. "So, I have an idea."

Ben looked up from the new guitar he was unwrapping. "It's not one of your 'promotional day' ideas, is it? Because ice cream and instruments do not mix."

"Please, that was a great idea. The customers just didn't keep it outside like they were supposed to."

"The ice cream wasn't the problem . . . the sticky fingers were."

I waved my hands. "Eh, it was fine. But, anyway, I was thinking it might be a good thing if you hired another person to sub for me. Jasper wants us to tour some, you know, to promote the album . . ."

He sat the guitar on the counter. "That's awesome, dude. Things are lookin' up, then?"

"Yeah, they really are. I can't believe how well it's goin'."

"Well, you've certainly been in a better mood."

I tossed my pick at him; he ducked and it flew over him to hit the wall. "Hush your mouth. I'm always pleasant."

"Says the girl throwin' things. So, about your idea . . . you got someone in mind, or do I need to put up a sign?"

"You know that kid Riley?"

"Yeah?"

"He came in the other day to shoot the shit and, by God, if that kid doesn't know what he's talking about, I don't know who does."

Ben snorted. "I thought he just bought his first guitar, and you think he's ready to work here already?"

"Well, he bought his own, yeah, but apparently his daddy plays, too, so he grew up playin'. I was impressed and thinkin' you might want to apprentice him a few days a week. He could probably help you out around here more than I have lately, give you some time off with your wife down the road when you think he's ready . . ."

He bent his head back over the guitar for a few minutes, clearly thinking about what I was trying to sell him while he tuned the instrument. "I like it."

I grinned. "Okay, I'm callin' him right now."

There was a stash of business cards and sticky notes near the telephone, and I rooted through the pile until I found the one I was looking for.

"Riley? It's Bella."

"Oh, hey, Bella. What's up?"

"You working today?"

"No, not today. Why?"

Poor guy. He sounded so confused. "Can you come down to the store for a while? I want to talk to you about something." When I hung up the phone I leaned against the counter and looked at Ben. "All done, boss."

~o~

Because I was raring to show Jasper what we'd come up with, I beat everyone to the guys' office the next day . . . including Bree. I was sitting in my car when she pulled up to open the doors.

"What are you doing here so early? Jasper's not supposed to be in until ten."

"I know. I called him already. He's going to try and get in earlier, but said I could go in to wait for him." Her phone rang just then, and I laughed. "That's probably him now."

She glanced down, nodded, and then answered her phone. "Good mornin' to you, boss man. You callin' to tell me Bella's going to be early?"

I followed her inside the building, and waited for her to finish her call.

"He said he's going to try and get here about nine-thirty, but we both know that won't happen. How was your week?"

"It was great. I'm ready to roll."

The door behind us opened and I turned around, stymied that Jasper had gotten there so quickly. Instead, Edward came through the door, his messenger bag slung over his shoulder and hair slightly messy from either the breeze outside or his lack of desire to do anything about it first thing in the morning. Knowing him, it was probably the second option.

Bree greeted him with a sunny, "Good morning!"

"Mornin'. " He looked at his watched and then turned in my direction. "You're here early this morning, it's only eight."

"Well, the girls and I worked hard all weekend on some new material and I'm dying to get opinions on it. I think you guys'll like what we came up with."

If I wasn't in such a decent mood the smug smile he tried, and did not succeed in, keeping off of his face would have probably made me spit fire; as it was I shrugged and hooked my bag over my arm to head for the conference rooms in the back.

"Wait, let me drop this stuff off in my office and I'll come with you. Bree, would you grab us some coffee? I'll take mine black and she'll have hers with caramel or vanilla creamer."

I paused on the first step and turned to stare at him, shocked that he even remembered something so small like how I took my coffee. "Did you get a knock on the head you're not tellin' anyone about?"

"Oh, be quiet. I can be nice, you know."

"If you say so."

I laughed at his expression. He looked like he was expecting guff from me, and that he wasn't really bothering me this morning seemed to be throwing him for a loop.

" . . . Okay, then. I'll meet you in the red lounge and you can show me what you have. Jasper might even be here by then."

"Yeah, right. Jasper will be ten minutes later than he was supposed to be, even with sayin' he'll be here early."

"You're probably right about that. See ya in a few."

Bree looked back and forth between me and his departing form. "You must have had a nice weekend."

"Guess so. I'm also sick of arguin' all the time, so I'm trying to be nicer."

"Well, y'all have a good time. I'll send Jasper back when he gets here to make sure you haven't killed each other yet. Please don't, by the way. Blood is hell to get out of carpets."

~o~

The red lounge, named so because of the color of the walls, was dark when I walked in. I flipped on the lights and set my things on the sofa. It was more dramatic in there and reminded me of what I had done with my own house lately—dark colors, rich fabrics and elaborate decor. Besides the studios, it was my favorite area of the building.

There were clusters of photos on the wall of scenic countryside that I was admiring when Edward joined me.

"Jasper just called and swears he'll be here in fifteen minutes."

"Okay. What's this picture of?"

"That's outside of Tuscany. When we were there last year, I went out and took a lot of pictures."

Surprised, I turned to look at him only to find how close his face was to mine. I took a step back and cleared my throat. "You took this?"

"Yeah. Picked up the hobby on the road. The boys give me shit at me when I make the tour buses pull over so I can take yet another picture of trees or rocks."

I studied the picture closer knowing he'd taken it. He had a good eye for it. Of course. Edward was just annoyingly good like that.

"You'd love it there," he said, voice low. "It's real pretty overseas, and a helluva lot different from home."

Before I could respond, Bree came into the room, handing me my coffee and placing Edward's on the coffee table in front of him.

"Thanks."

"I have a few things to brief you on. When is a good time?" she asked.

"Nothing pressing?" When she shook her head, he continued, "I'll be free in about an hour, then."

"Sounds good."

"Am I interrupting your schedule?" I asked as Bree left the room.

"Just the morning 'huddle', to see what's going on, who's coming in today, yada, yada."

"Ah." I took a sip of my coffee, musing to myself that he must have picked that up that phrase in New York.

"You and the girls have a nice weekend?"

"Yep. So did Sammy dog. He was in absolute heaven."

"Let me guess: played ball until he found water to lounge in."

"You got it. That dog is nothing if not predictable." I searched my head for a topic that was easy enough to pass the time while we waited for Jasper to arrive. "The place we were at, though . . . real pretty. Quiet, nice."

I took a seat at the table and he did as well, sitting across from me. As I talked about the farmhouse and the gorgeous scenery, I loosened up even more until we were just talking. He listened intently, shared some short stories about places in Europe he'd visited, and I was reminded of lazy Sunday afternoons curled up on the couch, me reading, him composing or just talking.

And I missed that.

It hit me hard how much I missed that, actually. There was a time when being with Edward had been as easy as breathing. We'd grown up together, him a year ahead of me and Alice in school, and when we'd gotten together it'd seemed natural because we were already friends. Remembering that and sitting here now, I wondered if a friendship with him now might be possible someday.

The layers of protection I'd built up to deal with him were thinner, now, not so tight. He'd been good about sticking to his word, and I'd yet, save for my initial reaction, felt like he was setting me up to screw me over. When it wasn't about _us_, I found talking to him much easier.

"Sounds like a cool place. Where is it?"

"About 35 miles south of here. It's so incredible; I'd like a place like that someday."

My attention was broken by Jasper coming through the door.

"Good mornin', people. What do you have for me today?" he said, rubbing his hands together.

We went over the new material, along with some rough recordings to give them an idea of where I'd gone, of what the girls and I had planned for the instruments. For the most part they seemed to agree, save for a few spots here and there where they suggested different arrangements or adding musicians to fill up the sound. We talked about blocking off more studio time to get the album ready, and about adding rehearsals afterward. Our impromptu meeting lasted a little over an hour.

When we stood to depart the room, Edward turned to me. "I'm really impressed by what you've brought us." His tone became softer, almost prideful. "It's really good, Bella."

"Thank you." I looked up at him and was drawn in by the soft look in his eyes. The microsecond we gazed at each other seemed to take entirely too long, was way too familiar, and I broke the contact. "I'll let you get to your day, then. See ya around."

"Looking forward to it."

~o~

During our initial recordings, Rose had blown through most of her vacation time with days off here, or four-day weekend there. She wasn't that worried about it, really, because she knew that in time she would have to leave her job anyway. Our advance on the record deal had been nice, even Jane agreed on that, but it by no means made us rich, and she still had to pay a mortgage and car note. In December, when we were planning on starting touring, she would resign.

Because of this, rehearsals were now being set up for evening hours so we didn't mess with Rose's classroom schedule any longer.

Hearing her plan for when she could quit made me realize that, by relenting to sign with Edward's company, I'd done her a solid. That, maybe, just maybe, I'd given back on all the time she and Alice had let me wallow and been there for me.

I worked, and I paid my own bills, but I also lived in a home that Edward had bought when he'd started making money, and my car was paid off, too.

Realizing your own faults was a long road, and I was just starting to see where my hem-hawwing could have made them miss out.

Thankfully, once we got back into the studio, most of our music was laid down with little or no retakes, so the rest of our studio time passed quickly. Our promotional tour had been handed over to another company who specialized in new country artists. Leah, the gal we were going to work with on that, came to the studio to watch us rehearse one day and get a feel for what we were doing.

"Nice catch, Cullen," she'd said after we were done. "I wouldn't let this one get away."

He looked at me and then away. "Not planning on it."

"You've got a great sound, girls. I think I can get you guys booked a lot of places—I would like to talk to you guys about image, though."

Alice guffawed. "You'll want me for that, or Rose. Bella will kick and scream about cuttin' her hair if you try, but we know how to talk her down."

Leah smiled. "I'm not as nice as I look. Just remember that."

I kicked Alice in the shins and muttered, "I'm not hopeless, you know. I fix my hair."

"Aw, I know you do, honey. But a trim every few months is different from a style."

"Anyway . . ." Leah gathered her things and shoved them into an electric green leather bag. "I'll call you to set up a meeting for later this week, or early next week, Edward. Ladies, it was nice meetin' you, and I think we'll work well together."

She left us then, and we started going over the daily takes again. Rose, Alice, Edward, Jasper and I were clustered around the soundboard in studio 1 toward the end of the day when the door swung open and Jake walked in.

"Hey kids, miss me?"

I held my tongue but Rose didn't. "The asshat party is next door."

"Nice. If you wanna get laid, might change that attitude of yours, Rose."

"My attitude is fine, and you don't need to worry about my sex life. Got some less than twenty-four hours ago. And I still don't like you."

I looked up at her sharply; I had no idea she was even seeing anyone, and I racked my brain trying to figure out who she was even seeing seriously enough to be sleeping with. She shrugged and winked at me.

"Like I'd give you the time of day, Blondie." Jake pulled up a chair and sat next to Edward. "Let's go out, man. The city's grown up since we lived here."

Ugh. Typical Jake—he'd been like this since before I could remember. He was a hellion when we were younger and he hadn't changed at all. We'd never gotten along in the years I'd known him; I couldn't stand his douchebag attitude and the way he thought he owned Edward's time because they'd been friends for so long.

Before I could stop myself, I said, "We're working here. I'm sure when Edward's finished y'all can go out and play."

"What, you givin' him permission, now? Seems like you gave that right up a long time ago."

"Back off, Jake."

The words came from Edward, and they weren't polite. Jake looked truly shocked that he would snap at him that way.

"Look, I'm on their time and we've got a lot to get down. I'll catch you some other time."

"Dude, I flew down here to hang out."

"Sorry, man. I told you once things took off I'd be tied up."

"Your loss."

There was a knock at the door and Jane poked her head in. "I was supposed to meet with—"

Jake rubbed his hands together. "Well, well, well. Who do we have here?"

Our lawyer turned her scathing glare his way, clearly put off by being interrupted. Jake, who had zero sense, almost puffed up at the challenge, and I gave up on paying attention to anything I was supposed to be concentrating on.

Fully ignoring him she continued. "Rose, can I borrow you for a few minutes, please? I need your signature before my meeting with Peter and Charlotte."

"Yup." She got up to leave the room, leaning away from Jake as she passed by. "Be back in a bit."

Jake showed no signs of leaving, so I turned to Edward and raised my eyebrows at him.

"Jake, we need to get back to work. I'll give you a shout when I can."

He sighed. "All right, fine. Ladies, it's been . . . well, it's been. Be great when you come back to New York to work, fellas. The vaginamite trio here is turnin' you into pussies."

He walked out the door while I was trying to work out his new word in my head.

Alice spoke up first, "Why on earth do you still spend time with him? He's still as annoying as he was when we were teenagers."

Thankful someone had voiced my opinion, I laughed out loud. "Can someone please explain vaginamite to me? Because I'm confused."

Jasper shook his head. "Nope. It's as rude as it sounds and my mama raised me better than that."

Edward leaned back in his chair and rubbed his forehead. "He's . . . Jake. He's been a little crazy lately, I don't know, but he's all right when we're working. He's young and he has some money finally, so he likes to party. He doesn't get that the rest of us aren't tryin' to be part of that scene. There's other things more important."

His eyes strayed to me and then away, and I looked down at the papers in front of me.

Jasper cleared his throat. "Let's get back to work. I want to get another track of Bella on 'You Don't Want Me' in case I need to make a composite."

"I'm going to need a warm up, first. Is that all right?"

"Sure."

"I got ya." Edward rose to follow me into the music room. Alice snorted and I looked back to see what had amused her, but she was already scribbling something down on Jasper's notebook.

We stepped inside the studio and Edward picked up a guitar. "What do you want to start with?"

"Surprise me."

He thought for a moment and broke into the first few bars of 'American Honey.'

"I love that song."

"Well, then, sing it for me."

I tapped my hand on my thigh and gave him the first line: "_She grew up on the side of the road . . . "_

We spent the better part of twenty minutes working on a warm-up. The songs transitioned from one to the next, and they were all tunes I'd always loved. It was sort of fun to see what Edward would pick out next, to anticipate his next move, and by the time I put on my headphones to really work, my smile was wide and easy, and the ridiculousness with Jake was lifted away for something sweeter.

When we were finished, I headed into the booth to cut my vocals. Adjusting the mic to my level and the spit screen on front, I ran though several takes.

It was easy to close my eyes and just sing tonight. I didn't think about how Edward was there to hear my confessions, or that I had an audience besides him just a room away. The lights were low and the room beyond was dark behind the glass, and I let roll the emotions I held cloaked inside.

Jasper broke in, "Hang tight for a second before I cut you loose."

I gave him a thumbs up and slid the headphones off. Tired from wearing them so long, I turned around to put them down and rubbed my ears, and saw that the room had filled even more while I wasn't paying attention. The first person I really noticed was Peter, and I started to wave until the sight behind him made me freeze.

Edward was holding a baby in his arms, one I assumed was Charlotte and Peters. He looked so natural—obviously making small cooing sounds and gently touching the baby's head as Alice stood next to him smiling.

My line of sight narrowed and my carefully mended heart shattered into a million glittery pieces, releasing the pain and hurt and emptiness like it was yesterday.

The scene in front of me portrayed something I had wanted so badly— and something that had nearly wrecked my soul. It was something that had left a deep ache with scar tissue that would never go away. Before anyone could notice, I slipped quietly out of the booth, then the side door, and left.

~o~

* * *

_Thank you, ladies from TLS, who have more than a few times given BoaF a nudge, a wink and hug. Your tireless efforts to give all stories recognition does not go unnoticed._

_And those of you who have mention BoaF on Edwardville, A Different Forest and Facebook, I owe you lots and lots of hugs._

_Thank you to all of you who always take the time to show some love._

_Song – American Honey – Lady Antebellum_

_Nicnicd really is THE best. . . xo _


	10. Chapter 10

_**Birds of a Feather**_

_**Chapter Ten**_

_**BPOV**_

"Hello, Bella. Didn't expect to see you tonight."

"I know. Kinda here on a whim."

"Do you need to talk?"

I paused halfway up the aisle, shook my head, and tried to catch my breath. "No, sir. If it's not too much of a hassle, I was wonderin' if I could have some time in here for a while?"

Pastor Mike tapped the papers he was sorting through into a neat pile and stood; he peered at me for a long moment—probably noting the deranged look in my eye and trying to decide if he should call my daddy to come get me—and then nodded. "I'm just about done here. Give me a bit to clear my office out and it's all yours. I'm due in town and Mrs. Cope won't be in until six. Lock up if you leave before she gets here?"

Mrs. Cope, who did most of the setting up for Sunday service, was something of a busybody. I'd be out long before she got there. If I looked half as jittery as I felt, there'd be wagging tongues before long about how _that poor Swan girl _was crackin' up.

My body vibrated with the need to just let go, and I nodded vigorously. "Thank you, Pastor Mike. I'll make sure to do that."

He left me with a pat on my shoulder, a whispered word of encouragement, and a few minutes later the door shut softly behind him as he headed for his vehicle. I grabbed my guitar case from the last pew and walked to the front of the church and took a seat on the steps of the altar.

Hazy light filtered through long, narrow windows, illuminating the dust particles that danced in the air. I let my breath out slowly, folding over myself until my head was on my knees and I could let the tears come in peace.

The old church was a haven for me; the acoustics in here were amazing, the relative privacy a bonus, and it was easier for me to sort out my thoughts here and ask for help in doing so.

And, right now, I desperately needed that.

Eventually my tears slowed, my breathing steadied, and I was able to sit straight again. My hands went to my guitar and I pulled it from its case and onto my lap, plucking the strings absentmindedly as my eyes wandered around the room.

Here was the place I'd found my voice at the age of eleven in choir robes and bad bangs. At sixteen I'd made eyes across the pews at a boy I'd started seeing in a new light, gotten scolded for not paying attention to the sermon and hadn't cared a bit. A few years past that and I'd said both my wedding vows at the altar I sat now, and goodbye to loved ones gone on to a different place.

Beginnings and ends were such weird moments in life. Simultaneously a close to an old chapter and an opening of something new—and, in my experience, neither was without some sort of struggle.

Just once, I wanted something easy to navigate. No roadblocks, no seven-car-pileups, no hollow feelings for company. Just once, a country road with pretty trees and sunlight to light the way would be a nice change.

Looking down, I watched my fingers pick out the mournful notes of an old song, a compliment to my thoughts, and I played on and on for a while trying to find the perfect song to suit my mood.

The door opened and closed, and heavy footsteps headed my way. I knew who it was but didn't look up, and continued to focus on my guitar. He settled into the front pew, long legs ending in slick new boots that sprawled in my line of sight and made the old red carpet seem duller than usual. I continued on for a bit before I found words to fill out my voice.

"How'd you find me?"

"Had a hunch."

I nodded my head. He hadn't been around for the last year, sure, but he knew me well enough to figure it out. When we were kids I'd come hide in here trying to get lost. . . but he'd always found me.

My hasty exit from the studio had probably raised some eyebrows, but I didn't rightly care just now.

"You been coming here a lot?"

"Yup. Killer acoustics, can't beat 'em."

"That they are. Ain't been here in a long time, not since . . ."

I huffed. "Not since you promised to stand beside me in good and bad, and forgot your vows along the way."

He crossed his feet and groaned. "We're going to go there, then?"

I sat my guitar down and looked up finally.

Over the years, I'd witnessed Edward in a lot of moods. Happy and playful, annoyed and downcast—but I'd never, not once, caught him looking so . . . so unresponsive.

And it set me off.

"Good a place as any, don't you think?"

"We've been over this a hundred times before. My schedule didn't leave me time to be at your beck and call, I dropped the ball, I was a bad husband. You didn't like me being gone all the time, you wanted more, I dropped the ball on that, too. Yada yada yada."

"Don't you dare paint me in that light because it was so much more than me being clingy. And you sound like a citified Yankee when you say that. It's dumb."

"Always gotta get in a jab, don't you. What do you want me to say, then?"

"How about, 'Hey, Bella, I'm really sorry I wasn't there for you when you were pregnant and I went runnin' around the country instead', there's a good one." My guitar fell from my lap as I got more worked up, the sound echoing. "Or maybe, "Gee, I apologize for not being there when you lost the baby because goin' on tour was more important than making sure you weren't fallin' apart', that's another. "

"I didn't know how to deal with it," he shouted, standing up and stalking over to stand in front of me. "Here's one for you: I'm sorry for being young and stupid. I'm sorry I wasn't ready to deal with what went down because I didn't know how."

"And so you left me alone to deal with it on my own? You stayed home for a week, and then I didn't see you for another month!"

He made a sound of exasperation and leaned forward, placing his hands on his knees so we were face to face. "You gave me no choice. You didn't want anything to do with me. I couldn't comfort you, touch you . . . I felt fucking helpless."

"We are in a house of God, you watch your mouth."

"And I'm sure He's heard it before."

My shoulders heaved, heart raced, and tears stung my eyes. "I was grieving the loss of our baby, and you'd checked out long before that, Edward. You blew us off at every chance I gave you before the miscarriage. I wasn't really in the mood to hold your hand after that."

"What made you think I wasn't grieving? That none of what happened affected me as much as it did you?"

I stood, too, needing him to back up, and found it momentarily sad that our stances mirrored the way we'd stood at the altar years before, only this time we weren't smiling and naïve kids in love. "You seemed to make it out okay."

"Hell if I did." The muscles in his cheek flexed before he took a deep breath and sank down to sit on the steps. "You were inconsolable, and everything I did seemed to make it worse so I left. I'm not proud of it. I thought the counselor would help . . ."

That day was so vivid in my mind: Edward's parents, my father, the girls and Edward, a woman I didn't know, all waiting for me in my living room. The counselor, Irina, had a kind face and manner, but there was a disconnect I felt immediately at seeing everyone in a circle. All I'd been able to think was _no fucking way_ as I turned around and slammed the door to my bedroom.

I took a deep breath and sat down on the floor. "My grief was—is—my own. No one needed to have to see that."

His voice softened. "I wish you didn't feel that way. In hindsight, I regret trying to force you into seeing a therapist. But, Bella, I was losing you and desperate to try anything."

"Springing that on me wasn't the way to do it. The only thing I had to protect myself from becoming completely undone was my solitude, and when y'all tried to take that away from me it only made things worse. You guys ambushed me."

"And I would take it back if I could."

"And then you left," I said.

"I didn't know what else to do. I had to do something to keep moving forward for my own sanity, and ignoring my work for months on end wasn't fucking feasible just then."

I glared at him. "Language!"

"I've already been to Hell. Cussin' ain't gonna hurt me none."

The urge to argue with him was still there, strong and gnawing at me, but reality had started to wind its way back in. Screaming at him, telling him over and over again that he hadn't fought hard enough for me, for us, wouldn't change the past. My heart was so weary, the space between us so charged with tension, and I felt like I couldn't breathe.

He looked up from staring at his fingers at my gasping. "Do you want to get some fresh air?"

I nodded and stood, grabbed my things, and he followed after me a half a beat later, reaching over my head to hold open the door when we got to the entrance.

"Wait, I need to lock up."

He held out his hand, for a second, I thought he was reaching for mine. I stared at it like it was outfitted with crocodile teeth.

"Your guitar?"

"Oh, yeah. Here." Hastily, I handed it over to him and pulled on the door to check the locks on the entrance to the church. When we stepped outside, Mrs. Cope was just shutting the door to her car.

Great. Not only did I still look a mess, but I thought it entirely possible that I looked worse than I'd started out, and now Edward was here, too. The phone lines would be meltin' down tonight.

"Oh, hello there!" she said, looking between me and Edward.

"Hello, Shelley. Pastor Mike asked me to lock up, but since you're here already—" I handed the set of keys the Pastor had left with me over "—here you go."

"Oh, Heavens, sweetie, yes. Thank you for lockin' up just in case. Long gone are the days when we could just leave the doors unlocked for parishioners who need a talk with God. Some kids got in and did damage to the Sunday School supplies last week. Hooligans, the lot of them."

I smoothed a hand over my hair and clucked my tongue. "That's downright awful."

"Hi, Mrs. Cope."

"Oh, Edward. It's so good to see you." She looked between the two of us, and I could just imagine the story she was composing in her head. "You two have a good rest of your evenin', now."

She was all cat-that-ate-the-canary as she bustled past us and into the building, and I had a hard time telling her it wasn't very saintly to talk about people the way she did. But my daddy would tan my hide, no matter that I was an adult or not, if I dared say that to someone who was my elder.

"Well, that's just super," I muttered, turning right and heading to the grounds beyond the church yard. There was a small creek back that way fronted by a little meadow where the kids played after Sunday services. I settled onto a spot a few yards away from the pretty little stream, Edward flopping down some distance away.

My thoughts were still all over the place, and so I didn't say anything at all—instead I plucked at the grass and made a small, fluffy pile at my feet. Hearing Edward say earlier that he'd felt guilty, that he knew he hadn't gone about dealing with the loss of our baby and my resulting depression in the right way, was . . . new to me. It was the first time he's acknowledged any wrongdoing on his own part. And, yet, maybe it was a good thing we'd gotten all of that out.

Didn't stop him from letting his annoyance be known, though; he sighed a few times, dug his boots into the ground, and threw rocks into the water with too much force.

"Go ahead."

"What?"

"Well, either you've sprung a leak, or those harrumphs are supposed to let me know you've got somethin' to say that you think I should hear."

"I'm not going to say anything that's not new."

I waved my hands. "Get on with it."

He scrubbed a hand over his face. "We both made mistakes, a bunch'a wrong choices that ended up killin' what we had."

"I agree." We both _had _made missteps, and owing up to my own part, letting go of some of those hurts, might make it easier for us to work together from now on.

"And considering that so many things have happened between us, there's no way we can go back to what we were."

Even though I had told myself this many times, to hear it from his lips was another thing and I took a quiet shuddering breath. Sadness over our failure was nearing the surface again, a small pain that threaded its way through my heart and threatened to tear it wide open.

Memories of us sitting here, sixteen year old sweethearts talking about our future, were overshadowed by what had transpired after that. I'd built so many walls to protect myself from the hurt, but those walls were nothing more than gossamer threads, and one small scratch was enough to shred them.

His next words were slow, stilted, like they were being carefully chosen. "I can't say I know what your feelings about me are at the moment—I have an idea—but over the last several weeks, I thought we were making progress . . . at least doing enough in order to work together."

Since he had set me on course to explore my creativity, his participation in tweaking some of the songs just right had become so integral to my process. I _could _do it without him, but wasn't entirely sure I wanted to.

"We were—are."

"I don't see why we can't continue that."

I wrapped my arms around my knees and settled my head on them, looking away. All along, I had wanted to be angry at him for not understanding my level of grief, for giving up and going back to New York–and still I struggled with anger at my own self for being a failure as a friend and wife. Working together the past few weeks, getting along in small ways, had been helpful in tamping down my anger.

Hell, us arguing today had been helpful. My shoulders felt a little lighter, like I could stretch them and not feel like they'd snap back together heavier than before.

"You want to yell at me some more?"

I rubbed my lips against the rough surface of my jeans and laughed sourly. "No. I think I've done enough hollerin' today."

"My ear's are still buzzin'."

"Hush up or I'll start in again."

We lapsed back into silence. The birds in the tree were singing their song, and I grabbed my guitar again. "I always forget how pretty it is back here."

"Me, too. It's weird to be back here after all this time."

"You know," I said, plucking out the intro to one of the songs the girls and I had recorded recently. "I always thought you had something to do with Pastor Mike gettin' me to talk about what was goin' on with me."

"That wasn't me. He gets you to talk?"

His tone wasn't my favorite. "I mean, sometimes. Not often, though; usually he just lets me in to play. But, sometimes . . . I don't know. It's easier to talk to him about it when I do . . . maybe because he's so removed from the situation." I shrugged. "Huh. Maybe it was Alice."

"Oh. Glad he's been there for you. Sounds like something my fool sister would do."

I started in on another song, taking a deep breath to clear out my lungs. It was something I'd been working on for the longest time. Not even the girls had heard it.

"What song is that? I haven't that one before."

"No one has."

He listened to me play for a few minutes. I chose not to sing the lyrics because they didn't hold the same meaning anymore. I had written them when I was still angry, giving play to how I wished I had never loved him, but the words rang false even to my ears. I opted to hum along with the melody.

"I like it," he said. "You all right? I mean, with what happened at the studio?"

Turning back to look at him, I said, "I can tell you what happened today, me runnin' out of the studio, that wasn't your fault. It was more of a three steps forward, one back, and I just needed some time to myself."

"I guessed that. I'm sorry."

I finally stopped playing to look up at him. His eyes were bright, vivid almost.

"It's not your fault. I thought I had it under control," I said.

"The point is you don't have to have it under control."

. . . and maybe he was right about that. It was something to think about, certainly.

Silence ensued for a couple of minutes before he spoke again. "I have an idea that I have been thinking about for a while if you're game for it."

I was intrigued by the new lightness in his voice. "What is it?"

"Let's write together."

"You think that's a good idea?"

"It's worked so far. I was surprised how well."

"You sayin' I'm hard to work with?"

"Not you, never." He shook his head, smiled wanly. "No, things just seemed to be happenin' easy. Kind of organic, really."

I pursed my lips as if that would help me decide.

"Look, we can meet here at the church or at the studio, you pick. Keep it really loose. I really like what you've done. Your songwriting is somethin' to be admired and it's only getting better every time I hear something new."

"Can I think about it?"

"Sure."

I looked up and noticed the color of the sky was changing. "Wow. We probably better get going."

"Yeah. Ready?"

I moved to push myself from the ground and instead he offered me his hand. Hesitantly, I placed my fingers in his palm, feeling not only a rush from contact but safety and trust for me there. He pulled me to my feet and we were standing nearly face to face before he took a step back.

I followed him in my car back to the studio, a little embarrassed by my hasty exit several hours ago. Save for Peter and Charlotte, who might not know the entire story, most everyone else would understand, but still. Reacting like that wasn't something I wanted to do in front of most people—hell, I had a hard enough time doing it with the girls.

When we arrived back at the studio, the lawyers were gone, Jake was gone and I found Alice and Rose lounging around in the red room.

Rose spoke up first. "Hey, B. Leah wants us to meet next week so we can lay out the schedule for the promotional stuff."

I bent over the couch and hugged her from behind, thankful she wasn't bringing earlier events up. "The record isn't even done yet."

"Um, you have to book this stuff way in advance, depending on what they're trying to do."

"Well, I'd be comfortable with you taking charge of that once we got rollin'. Alice and I aren't tied down by schedules so we could easily work around what you needed."

"I handed in my notice. I'll be done after Fall."

I stared at her in astonishment. "You sure?"

"Yep. I love my job but it's kind of now or never. Heck, in a few years, if it doesn't work out I might even go back."

Same way I didn't like to talk about my failed marriage, Rose wasn't one to poormouth, so I let it drop. "Cool deal. So, who is this guy? Or were you makin' things up to get Jake to back off?"

"Please. I wouldn't waste my energy on him."

Alice looked up from her phone. "It's Emmett. They've been sneakin' around since last month."

"We're not sneakin' around!"

"For real? Why didn't you tell me?"

"You have enough going on. And I wanted to make sure it would stick first before I said anything."

I rounded on Alice. "How long have you known?"

Alice's foot started rocking faster as she looked at Rose. "Well . . ."

"Here we go again." I threw my hands in the air and then flopped backward onto the couch. I pointed at them. "None of this secretive shit anymore. From here on out, it's all up front."

Rose shrugged, and then pointed at me. "Fair is fair. Where did you go?"

"The church, to play. Then Edward came over and we talked some."

They looked between each other. "Did it go all right?" Alice asked, settling down beside me.

"Yeah, I think it did. No weapons drawn or security needed."

"That's good," she said, sounding relieved. "Glad my influence is finally rubbin' off on him."

I snorted. "Okay . . . Anyway, he asked me to write with him."

"Whoa." Rose pulled one of the soundboard chairs over and sat in it backwards. "And what do you think about that?"

"I think . . . I think I'm goin' to do it."

~o~

* * *

_Thank you again for hanging in there and showing these two some love._

_Song – The One That Got Away – The Civil Wars_

_xo nic. Just xo for everything._


	11. Chapter 11

_**Birds of a Feather**_

_**Chapter Eleven**_

_**BPOV**_

All morning long my stomach had been a mess of butterflies—jumpy and anxious, and as fluttery as it could possibly be. Following our big blow-up, Edward and I had made a go at being cordial, more so than before, at least. If we were going to write together, we had to at least be able to be in the same vicinity for more than ten minutes without digging at each other.

Five years ago—heck, maybe even two years—I would have been anxious for a different reason entirely. Those days were gone, though, and now it was just a business arrangement; a working relationship, and nothing else.

Weird how time changed people, how roads traveled could give new perspective.

Currently, Edward stood on our—no, my front porch. He stood there with an amused smile on his face, and seventy five plus pounds of obnoxious Labrador bouncing around his feet and threatening to knock him over.

"Someone's ready to go." He laughed when Sam jumped up and placed his paws on his shoulders. "Maybe even dance a 'lil bit. How 'bout you, you ready?"

I looked down at the leash in my hands and then lunged. "Keep . . . him . . . still. Got it. Yeah, I'm ready now."

"Guess he still doesn't like that, huh?"

"Oh, he loves _going _places; doesn't matter if it's just the mailbox. But he still hates the leash."

In answer, my dog looked at me with baleful eyes and then slowly lowered himself until he was prone at our feet.

"Lord above," I said. "First, I haven't been home much lately, and now I've gone and trapped him. I guarantee I'm gonna be missin' a shoe later."

"Better keep 'em off the floor, then."

I ignored the remark and readjusted my bag so it wouldn't slip down my arm. "We can go now."

Edward stepped off the porch. "Come on, Sam."

The traitorous pup happily obliged _Edward, _lunging off the porch with a happy bark and trotting at his side with his ears perked_. _

"You sure you want him riding in your new car?"

He opened the car door and waited for Sam to hop into the back, and then turned to look at me.

". . . 'kay, then." I shrugged my shoulders and bundled down the driveway, guitar case in hand. Edward met me at the passenger door, reaching out his hand for my case. There was an awkward fumble because I didn't realize what he was doing at first, and then my bag started to slip down my bare shoulders yet again. We did this weird dance, him taking a step forward, me back, then me having a lightbulb moment in time for him to drop his hand.

"I'm not gettin' any younger, sweetcheeks."

"Oh my god, here." I handed him my case and he set it in the backseat, and I grabbed hold of the 'oh-shit' handle to pull myself into his massive SUV.

. . . Could'a made a quip about making up for other things with the size of his truck, but that was both untrue and plain rude. And it'd probably start a war that would end badly.

So I sat in my seat and breathed in the new-car-fancy-leather smell, and suddenly felt so removed from what he had, who he was now. I missed his old beat up Chevy, the one that the floorboard had nearly rusted through and that sounded like a bomb going off when it started. This thing positively _hummed, _and had more buttons and lights than a spaceship did.

Sam, nose pressed to the window in anticipation of fresh air, was making a mess of slobber on the tinted glass. I looked down and had a loose hem in the bottom of my tanktop and I'd only just now noticed, and Edward had just put on stupid sunglasses that had some dippy, hot-to-trot logo embossed on the side. I felt like a guest in his world.

"Mighty fancy ride you've got here," I said after a lengthy silence. "Is the manual in the glovebox or did you need a separate bookshelf for all of it."

"Funny," he said, taking an exit that avoided the path directly into downtown. "It's a company car. I just happen to be the one who drives it."

"Well, it's a lot different than your old truck."

"That it is. I miss that 'ole thing."

He hooked a right that made no sense, and I stared at the street signs. "Aren't we goin' to the studio?"

"Nah. Thought we might go to back to the church to play outside. The weather is still great—might as well take advantage of it."

I contemplated that for a minute. Granted I didn't own the church, but it was my refuge; turning it into a place where we worked together felt like giving it away, like it'd lose its meaning. A whisper of those feelings I'd felt not only after my retreat, but the past week, surfaced, and I looked out of the window and tried to gather my thoughts.

Edward and I fighting all the time just wasn't healthy.

Too many instances of missed calls and flights, of poking at each other with sharpened sticks just to get a rise, of the total annihilation of what we'd once had, had left us in this weird limbo where everyone around us had to walk on eggshells and be dragged down into a pit of despair that wasn't meant for more than two.

We were the textbook definition of 'married too young', and apparently neither of us had been mature enough to handle the demise of our marriage.

But we were older now, and, I hoped, a little bit wiser, too. We'd both made mistakes, sure. The only way to gain new ground and be able to properly work together—even in _my _church, if it came down to it—was to at least try to act rationally.

"Hey, that's okay, isn't it?"

I looked up at the sound of his voice, saw that he'd flipped his sunglasses up and was peering at me while the truck was stopped at a stop sign. "What? Oh . . . yeah. Um, that's fine. It is a nice day, be a shame to lose the sunshine."

"All right, the church it is."

The spire peeked out over the trees as he made the turn into the parking lot, illuminated from behind in sun rays and a glorious, bright light. I breathed a little easier just seeing it, gave myself a metaphorical pat on the back for being a grownup for once.

"It'll probably be better to park down there so we don't have to carry everything at once." He steered through the lot and toward the stream, tires leaving asphalt and bumping along gravel.

"Well, I mean, Sam's mighty heavy, but my guitar ain't that bad . . ."

I jumped out of the truck when he parked and went to let Sam out. He was feisty, though, wiggling and sniffing the air. Probably cataloging the smells and trails of critters he could chase and trouble he could get into.

"You behave," I said, stepping back once I had his leash hooked around my fist. "You pull me after you and I'm takin' you to a drill sergeant."

The hatch of the SUV closed and Edward laughed loudly. He appeared from the back with both guitars at his feet and a blanket and cooler tucked into his hands. "You've been threatenin' him with that for so long I don't think he believes you anymore."

"What's all that for? And you hush your mouth. He'll hear you and act a fool."

"Sure. Whatever you say. Also, I didn't know how long we were gonna be, so I brought water and some other stuff. Can't come unprepared."

"Oh . . . kay."

Since we apparently going on a picnic, judging by his full arms, I grabbed my guitar in one hand and let Sam lead the way down to the stream. He strained at his leash, whining like his dreams were dyin', and I let him go once Edward had the blanket settled down.

Much as I complained, Sam was a good dog. He never ran out of my sight, usually stuck to the perimeter, and never pushed his boundaries—well, unless there was another dog around.

Even as I watched Sam hightail it for a strand of trees, I noticed Edward straightening things on the blanket. The guitars were placed just so, the cooler set slightly downhill so it wouldn't leak. I snorted once to suppress my laughter.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You wouldn't be snortin' if it was nothin'."

"I do not snort." Except that I did, but still. "I was merely tryin' not to laugh because 'Mister Rock Star' looked mighty domestic there for a minute."

He stood straight up then. "What's so wrong with tryin' to make this a pleasant afternoon?"

I sat on an edge of the blanket and leaned over to grab a notebook out of my bag. "And it is nice, by the way. I was just joshin' ya."

"Then let's get to it, yeah?" He rolled a water my way and opened his guitar case, a little smile on his face.

It was nice to not get on the defensive, or the offensive, for a change. Back in the day Edward and I had gotten a kick out of squabbling for fun. Everyone had joked that we weren't happy unless we were fighting, and I'd thought it was funny until I'd learned what it meant to really fight.

The light, breezy bickering was a welcome reemergence.

Sam yipped and I looked up, found him hunched over the stream and probably scaring a bullfrog. "Lemme throw him the ball for a few and then he'll settle down in the stream and we won't have to worry about him."

"I'll do it." He got up, waited until I handed him a tennis ball from my bag, and then stared down at my overflowing bag.

"Jeez, what you got in there?"

"Can't come unprepared," I said, giving him a cheeky smile.

He rolled his eyes, hollered "Sam!", and then left me be. Damn dog was game—he ran happily back and forth, dropping the increasingly slobbery ball at Edward's feet and then bouncing after it until he was panting and ready to lay in the stream and cool down.

And maybe it was just nostalgia brought on by not being mad for a change, or maybe I'd been too long without, but the sight of Edward, lean and clad in only a thin white t-shirt and loose fitting button flys, and looking just as fit as when we'd first gotten together, held my attention for a mite too long. When he bent over to grab a stick and toss it, my cheeks felt hot, and I looked away, down to the notes I'd made since the last time I'd really wrote a song.

Guess it wasn't _bad _to appreciate a good looking man, even if I was in the midst of divorcing him.

"Your dog is ridiculous."

"Hey, you were the one who bought him." I took a big gulp of water and looked over to the stream. "I am wholly without fault in that."

"Uh huh. I seem to remember you pickin' him out of the litter. 'Oh, Edward, let's get this one. Look at how cute he is'. I liked the one with white paws, but no."

"Hush. He'll hear you and feel unwanted."

The words made me wince, and I took another drink from the water bottle.

Edward cleared his throat, and I looked over to see him staring out over my head. "Welp. Dog's restin', the day is young. Let's you and I write some songs."

Glad for the subject change, I nodded. "Yeah, let's. So, what are we lookin' to do here? Are we starting from scratch?"

"We can, I guess, but we could also work on somethin' you've already got started and see if we can't go from there. What about that song you played the other night when we were here? You got lyrics for it?"

I looked back down to my notebook so he wouldn't see the lie in my eyes. "Mmm. Not really."

"The melody is good, though, kinda hauntin'. It's been in my head all week, might make for a good duet if you're open to it . . ."

That got my attention, brought my eyes right back to his face. "Oh, now you wanna sing with me? You're not gonna pawn me off on 'studio musicians' this time around?"

He sighed, flexed his fingers. "That was a dick move on my part, and even I can admit to that. Look, I think we've been gettin' along pretty well, considerin'. We got some of the bad into the air, had it out, and we can move forward now. I'm not tryin' to poke at you today, Bella. I'm just sayin' we should see if we can come up with something good together."

I recrossed my legs, leaned my head back so I could close my eyes and feel the sun on my face. IF I wanted to truly move forward, like I'd been spouting off to myself and God and anyone else who'd listen, I needed to let go of some of the hurt feelings. And Edward was brilliant, really and truly . . . and if it didn't work, it just didn't, but there was no harm in at least trying.

"All right. Wouldn't mind if that song had a new life."

I flipped through my notepad until I got to the page where I had scribbled down the chords, then tossed it to where he was sitting. He grabbed his backpack and pulled out his own weathered notebook, settled a pencil between his teeth, and studied the chords. Belatedly, I realized I had did have some lyrics written in there that I really didn't want him to see; but, before I could make a move for it, he'd slid it back over to me.

"Thanks."

I watched his face as he concentrated, and it reminded of when we were kids sitting next to each other in class. For about two years before we'd hooked up, I'd had a crush on him, was so intrigued that I spent a lot of time studying his mannerisms on the sly. He'd chew on his pen or pencil when he concentrated, furrow his brow and bite his lip while he worked out a problem. Test days had been an absolute smorgasbord of silly things that made my heart flutter about Edward Cullen.

A tic worked in my cheek as I recalled the time I'd commented on how cute it was, the way he did things, and how annoyed he'd gotten with me pointing it out. He still had those traits even now, and while he studied the chords and worked them out on his own, he bit his lip and absently swept hair that had fallen in his eyes away. It took him one pass until he had it, and I shook my head.

He looked up. "Play with me?"

I gave a quick nod of my head to clear the fog and propped my guitar in my lap. We went over the song a few times before he stopped me.

"What were you just thinking about?"

"About the last set of chords. They feel weak."

"No, not that. Before, I mean, when I was learnin' the song."

I thumped my guitar. "Oh! Right. Just thinkin' about how you reminded me of the way you were in high school just then, concentratin' and bitin' your pencil. You always looked like that when it was time for a test."

"Well, it came easy for you. I had to work at it."

"Okay," I drawled. "You didn't ever say anything about it bein' hard. Hell, you made it look easy."

"Nothin, besides maybe music, for me, is _easy._ School subjects were something I had to learn rote."

"Suppose you serenadin' me to do your dirty work was just your way of gettin' out of homework, then, huh?"

He laughed and ran his hands through the grass, picking up a blade and bending it in half. "Guy's gotta try, don't he?"

"And you succeeded." I looked down to strum the beginning chord again, and then stopped. "Just so you know, I knew what you were about all the while. I just liked those silly songs you used to make up, so I let you get away with it."

"There you go. Make some lyrics up about that."

"'Bout what? You pawnin' your homework off on me?" I put together an uptempo, throwback-country sounding beat. _Must be mistakin' me for the maid we don't have  
Can't even wash the whiskey out your glass_

He leveled a sardonic look at me. " How 'bout fallin' in love when you're young?"

I sat my guitar down, suddenly uncomfortable with the way the conversation had veered. "That's hitting it a bit close, don't you think?"

"Best songs are the ones pulled from your gut. You of all people, with the tunes you write, know that."

He was right. Didn't mean I couldn't still mess with him for making me crazy. So I picked up my six-string and sang what came to mind.

_Across from me was a boy  
Knew all along he was for me_

The smirk on his face wasn't the reaction I expected.

"Don't be laughin'," I said, slapping my hand on my guitar. I glared at him and launched into the song again.

_What are little boys made of?  
Snakes and snails and puppy dog tails_

He threw back his head and laughed. "Might have yourself a hit there. Girls seem to like the revenge songs these days. All about bashin' headlights and ruinin' a perfectly good truck."

"I'm sure he deserved it."

"Not all guys are like that."

"I can think of one, name starts with a J, holds the other half of your BFF necklace . . ."

"Jake? Eh, all bark and no bite."

I strummed a 'D minor' chord. "You're always defendin' him, and meanwhile I can't ever remember a time when he wasn't causin' trouble."

"Not sayin' he's not annoying at times, because we all are, but he's not all bad, either, Bella. You just don't like him."

Annoying was kind. But now the subject was open and I had nothing to lose. Plus, I really wanted to say my peace.

"It's not just that. I never understood why he felt the need to compete for your attention so much, and why he got a pass on it."

Edward set down his guitar and leaned toward me. "I wouldn't call it competin'."

"Oh, come on. Can't count how many times I tried to call you up in New York only to get passed off to someone else when he answered, or not get any return calls at all. ."

He shook his head, looked incredulous. "Now, you ain't exactly one to hold back on your grievances, and you never told me that."

"Bull. I did too . . . at least I did at first. But it seemed like it was fallin' on deaf ears and I thought it a moot point. Besides, I was tired of soundin' like a nag and sick of him being a jerk to me when I called."

His face was still, that mask I didn't like slipping over it. "Jerk? Why? He say something to you I don't know about?"

"Seriously? Of course he did. Always harpin' on me when you guys started to get big, said I was holdin' you back."

"That's bullshit!"

I crossed my arms. "I'm not lyin'!'"

"No." He closed his eyes, rubbed at his temples. "What I meant was why would he say something like that?"

"Dunno. Maybe because I was your wife and took up too much of your time."

His eyes opened, then, and they were real, real angry. "He said that to you? In those words?"

" . . . Among other things."

"God damnit."

"Don't you go takin' the Lord's name in vain while we're at a church. You're gonna get a lightning bolt up your behind some day."

"Honestly, you flit from topic to topic like a damn bee. And don't go changin' the subject, neither, because I'm highly pissed off right now. First off, you shouldn't have ever, ever thought that way, no matter what Jake spouted off about. And you _should _have told me what he said."

"And you'd have believed me? Bitchy wife who, at that point, you couldn't even have a civil conversation with, or your best friend? Hmmm." I jiggled my hands up and down like a scale.

He stared at me, a look of pain pulling his features into something too sad to contemplate. "_You_ were my best friend."

I felt my heart lurch some and dropped my gaze from his.

"Some days you were the only thing that kept me even goin'. Hell, I wasn't sure we'd even get a record deal and you kept pushin' me to do it. Your faith in me made me believe."

"I did, no, I still _do_ believe in you. If it didn't happen with that band, I knew you'd find some other way to make it big. And if I didn't think you could help me, I wouldn't have agreed to work with you now, even after what happened. This is you. This is who you are."

He sat there silently, picking at grass blades again. I half expected him to raise them to his lips and blow on them the way he used to, but he just tossed them off to the side.

Why was it that we always ended up back at sad? The day had actually been nice up to a point, a little awkward but not terribly so. I just wanted that back for a few more hours so I could sleep peacefully for a night without shoulda, coulda, woulda hanging over my head.

"Besides, if I hadn't filled your head so big it could float away, you wouldn't be in the position you are now. You're golden, Edward. Got a knack in this business and an opportunity not many get."

Even I couldn't take that away from him—he'd gotten by just fine, although we ourselves had fallen to the wayside in the process. And maybe I was realizing I had held my tongue when I shouldn't have, that my confusion over what was going on and the way I'd chosen to handle it maybe hadn't been the right one, though it seemed the only one at the time.

Neither of us was perfect, not like I'd made us out to be when we were eighteen and idealistic. Twenty-something and burned tended to turn rose-colored glasses clear when you finally wiped away the film.

"I can only hope. No releases yet, yours will actually be the first. We got held up with the other two bands."

This was a side of him I forgot about: always so self assured, especially in front of other people, but with me he'd let down his guard because he knew he could. As angry as I had been with him in the past, I would never violate that trust, and I was glad he at least seemed to still know that.

I was able to see past the boy who seemed to sail through life with ease to the one who had a small spot of weakness. Somewhere along the way I'd forgotten that, gotten mad when he'd seemed to dust that boy off his shoulders and leave me out like he'd changed and couldn't, or wouldn't, let me see the real him. "Is that not why you signed us? The new female supergroup?" I said, trying to distract him from his roundabout attitude change.

"You're on your way. That's for sure."

"I appreciate what you've done for us, you know. I know . . . I know I didn't act very professional about it in the beginning, but I see it now. Thank you."

He took a deep breath. "Anytime."

He grabbed his water bottle again and took a swig, and the conversation had circled back around to where our shoulders weren't tense anymore. Sam was a few feet away lounging in the shade now, and I could imagine that the wet dog smell he was probably carrying like a badge of honor would be lingering in Edward's _company car _until he got it detailed.

A movement at the other end of the yard caught my eye and I turned to see Pastor Mike walking from his car in the lot. Apparently he'd pulled up and we'd not noticed, so I waved at him and heard Edward chuckle behind me.

"Think he's checkin' up on you?"

"Dunno. Least it's not with her rangefinder. That woman . . ."

"Aw, she don't mean nothin' by it. She's just an old busybody."

"Ha! If she doesn't know, she makes it up. She had you off with some supermodel and startin' another family. I couldn't go to Sunday service for a month after that one, and my Daddy got lots of phone call askin' if I needed a prayer circle started."

He scoffed. "Yeah, right."

I looked down at the frets of my guitar to finger a chord because he hadn't exactly denied it.

It wasn't my business. Even if Alice said it wasn't true, I was the one who'd asked for the divorce. He was dragging his feet for whatever reason, and just here lately I'd hoped it was because he wanted to make amends and have us at least be cordial before he signed the papers. If the work he was putting in at being nice to me was any factor that might just be it. And, yet, despite me saying until I was blue in the face that I didn't care, it didn't mean that people talking about my business didn't bother me.

"You didn't believe all of that nonsense, did you?"

I didn't say anything, lest I let him know how much it really hurt me.

"Hey."

I looked up at to him intently watching me. "Regardless of the problems we were having, I never went there."

"I didn't want to do this today. I thought we could get through the afternoon by being professionals, not rehashing our past."

"Some things need to be said, Bella, so we can put it to rest. Knowing that some false information made you feel bad is my concern."

I nodded and put that on the table for thinking about later. I couldn't just yet.

"It's done. Okay? I want to focus on this now."

"All right." He looked away and ran through the song once more, his voice softly carrying the tune.

_She's a yellow pair of running shoes  
A holey pair of jeans_

"You have some homework that needs to be done or somethin'?"

"No," he said, grinning.

He played the melody softly as I hummed along, and for the better part of the rest of the afternoon, we cleaned up the song and worked out some other ideas he was carrying around before we decided to call it quits.

The ride back to the house was silent; didn't know if it was all of the fresh air that made me tired or the heavy talk we'd had, but whatever it was had made me just as drowsy as my dog—Sam had crawled over the back and was lying in the passenger seat behind us. He barely lifted his head when we got home.

Before I grabbed the handle to the door I said, "Thank you, today was good. I enjoyed it."

"Yeah, I did, too. Might want to stay indoors next time, though. Looks like you got a little sunburnt."

Before I could even think about it, the back of his hand was on my forehead. It was warm from the heat of the sun, and when his fingers lingered a beat too long, started to drift down to my cheek, the space in the car started to feel too small.

I smiled weirdly and said something that made no sense, fumbled with the door and jumped out. There was hesitation in his movements as he stared at me and then got out of the vehicle to wrangle Sam out.

"See ya later this week?"

"Uh huh. Later." I waved and gathered my things and my dog, and took off for my front porch. The tires crunched as he left, and I turned around only when I was sure he was down the street and couldn't see me.

The day had been . . . unsettling. Good in the fact that we'd made some progress on songs, and yet not because some old wounds that still felt a little too raw were reopened.

I flopped on the couch, moving silently aside when Sam crawled up beside me and took up most of the space. A nap was in order, and I shut my eyes thinking that I didn't know exactly what was going on anymore, but whatever it was, Edward was up to something.

And maybe, just maybe, it was working.

~o~

* * *

_Thank you for reading and for leaving reviews that make me want to give you something new everyday! xo_

_Songs – Unhappily Married – Pistol Annies_

_She's Everything – Brad Paisley_

_Nicnicd was a superhero for me this week. Through a cold and questionable wifi, she rocked it to get this to me on time. Betas are love._


	12. Chapter 12

_**Birds of a Feather**_

_**Chapter Twelve**_

_**BPOV**_

There had never been a single moment in my life where anyone would describe me as a morning person—anything before nine a.m. was still night time in my opinion. And yet there I was awake and in a fairly good mood, and snuggled up beside my dog. Well, said dog was the reason I was up because he'd whined to go outside earlier and then stood there doing nothing at all. Point was that I wasn't crabby and it wasn't even eight—a miracle.

I stretched my toes and snuggled further into my warm covers, watching as the sun climbed higher and turned my foggy backyard into a green oasis. The past week had been a good one, easier than the last and better still than the week before that. For just the shortest moment, I was able to spare a thought for the little girl I had lost, to imagine her being the one to wake me up instead of Sam and how our morning routine might have gone.

For just a moment, anyway. Thinking about her hurt so much, still, and probably always would. What-ifs were dangerous—little fantasies that would never come to fruition and best kept under lock and key.

The phone on my nightstand rang and I forced myself to put my thoughts away. There was only one person who'd risk my morning wrath by calling me this early, and I slid the answer button without even looking. "Whaaaaat, Alice?"

"Not Alice, but good mornin' to you, too."

I frowned at the screen, saw an unrecognized number. "Who is this?"

"I'm hurt you don't know my voice yet, especially when I was callin' to tell you about a super-great trip you're about to take."

" . . . A trip? Say again? It's too early for riddles, you know. I haven't even had coffee yet."

The female voice in my ear laughed, and I pulled the phone away from my ear and set it to speaker so I could google the unknown number. "That's been taken care of," she singsonged, and my temper flared quick as that.

"Look, I don't know who you are or how you got this number, but I'm not fuckin' ar—"

Sam barked and hopped off the bed, claws skidding on the hardwood floor as he raced to stand at my bedroom door. If not for his wagging tail and happy prancing, I may have resorted to grabbing the aluminum baseball bat I kept in a closet, but a second later Alice opened my bedroom door, all smiles and chipper attitude.

"What the hell are you doin' here?"

"Welp, I see you're off to a good start this fine mornin'. Already cussin'. I should tell your daddy on you."

"I hear that the cavalry has arrived."

"Hello, Leah," Alice called, sidestepping me to place a cardboard cup of coffee on my nightstand. "She'll be good in a few minutes."

"Leah? Well, why didn't you just say so? And what are you all schemin' about? What trip?"

"Bella, I need you to pack a bag. You're going to New York."

"What? Why?"

"We've booked a promo packed week for you, your flight leaves in three hours, and there's a limo in your driveway."

I flopped backward onto the bed, eyed Alice already digging around in my closet, and rubbed my eyes. "Hold on a minute, lady. Why does this have to be right now?"

"Because y'all are weeks away from startin' promo and it's time to kick you into gear, and because I've finally picked your team out and want you to meet them. I'm hangin' up now, Alice will fill you in on the rest."

Before I could even utter another word she'd disconnected, and I sighed loudly and tossed my phone onto my pillow.

"What on earth did you do?"

Alice looked up from where she'd unearthed my suitcase and shook her head. "So dramatic. You get ready; I'll pack your stuff."

"One of these days . . ." I said, standing and heading to the window in my bathroom. I could just make out the edge of a fancy black limo in my driveway. "One of these days you guys are going to try and surprise me and I'm gonna be waitin' with a shotgun. See how you like it." I stepped back into my bedroom. "What about Sam? I can't just leave him here and my father is on a fishin' trip."

"Want me to call my brother? He'll take him for you. Also, you'd never shoot me. You love me too much, and coffee is terrible in the slammer."

"No, I'll call him. Jesus." I sat on the bed. "I don't exactly have pleasurable memories of New York, so I don't know why you think I wanna go there at all. And another thing, where was I when all of this was being arranged?"

Alice paused in inspecting my wardrobe. "First of all, you said yourself that Rose and I were the ones who got to decide on this part of the festivities. You don't care about clothes, but we do, and so we got to make the plans for this trip. Second off, it's for fun, it's just going to be us, and we wanted to mix a little business in with pleasure. This isn't you livin' in New York, this is a photo shoot for our album cover. And some fittings for wardrobe as well as meetings with Leah and her team. And maybe a night or two on the town to celebrate the start of our ride."

I lost some of the wind on my sails. Even I couldn't argue with that—I _had _made it clear that they were the ones who got to do all the fun, girly stuff. And, really, it didn't sound like a bad time.

"Plus, if we didn't push you, you'd grow moss."

"Would not."

"Would too. Look, Rose and I know just how well you do with change—" she made a face "—and after the stunt with springin' Edward on you, we know how far we can and can't push you. And you gotta admit that it hasn't been as bad a time as you thought it would be initially."

She had me there. I'd kicked and screamed, Edward and I'd had some words that had needed to be said, and I was better off for it now. My tension was all but gone, my wounds a little bit healed.

"This is different. A new, unique experience. We get to go try on fabulous clothes and have people make us look real pretty, and there'll be people to fuss and fawn over our butts like we're somethin' special. And even you'll like that."

"Fine. Guess I'll go call your brother and tell him to come get my dog."

"You do that. Time's a wastin'."

Picking up my coffee and my phone, I headed for the back porch. Sam joined me, nosing around the backyard while I searched my contacts and pressed send.

"Hey, good mornin'."

I took a quick sip of my coffee, smiling because his morning voice was worse than even mine. All the magazine articles I'd read about him waxed poetic about his gritty drawl, and I knew that his throat always sounded like a frog in the early morning hours.

"So apparently I'm bein' whisked off to New York?"

"That was the plan."

The porch swing creaked as I pushed off with my foot. "Sounds like I wasn't included in the plan."

"Most of it was arranged last minute, mind you. Alice and Rose asked for a few things and Leah put it all together."

"Uh-huh, sure. Y'all figured out to ambush me in the mornin' so there would be less resistance, more like."

He laughed. "Safest way to go. You callin' to yell at me for things out of my control?"

"Out of your control, my behind. And I wasn't callin' to yell at you at all. I need someone to watch Sam. Daddy's out of town on a fishin' trip with his friends or I'd ask him."

"Oh. Yeah, he can stay with me. I'll get ready and I can be there in an hour."

"Thanks. I'll probably be gone by then. I'll, um . . . I'll leave the key in the usual spot."

Back when things weren't so bad, I'd always leave a key on the back porch under a flower pot. Edward had a bad habit of misplacing his keys when he was on tour, and his schedule had been so erratic that I never knew if he'd show up at four in the afternoon or four in the morning in those days . . . when he showed up at all. It was awkward to talk about it now, like things were the same.

"Got it."

I shivered, stood, and then opened the back door. Summer was at its end, and it was far too chilly to be outside in just a silky night dress—plus, my neighbors would be up and about soon. Sam followed at his own pace.

"All right. Make sure he gets out at least three times a day. I assume you don't have a yard at that condo of yours so make sure he gets some exercise. And he only gets one cup of food in the mornin' and then another one at night."

"Okay."

"Not too many treats either else he'll puke in the middle of the night."

He laughed. "Is that all?"

There wasn't much more to say, though. I sighed and locked the back door. "Yeah. Guess I'd better get movin'."

"I'll talk to you again once you get to New York. You have fun."

"I'll try. Thanks, again, you know, for watchin' Sam. Talk to you soon."

Call ended, I headed for the bedroom to find Alice with most of my closet strung across my bed.

"You're cleanin' that mess up."

She waved her hand. "We are goin' shoppin' in the city. Girl, you need new clothes."

"I like my clothes."

"I guess you do, they look well loved."

I ignored her and started snatching clothes off the bed. "Where's Rose?"

"We'll pick her up on the way to the airport."

An extremely quick shower later, dressed and hair pulled back into a mostly-wet ponytail, I scribbled a note for Edward, gathered chew toys, food dishes, and a huge Ziploc bag full of dog food, and placed everything on the kitchen table.

Alice's voice carried from the bedroom. "Do you have a bigger suitcase?"

I rolled my eyes—no doubt so she could stuff it with things purchased in New York later. "No, don't usually pack much. We takin' instruments?"

She rounded the corner tugging my carryon behind her. "Not this time. They'll probably have stuff there for the photo shoot."

The thought of not taking my guitar made me grumble, and I continued grumbling as I pulled a pair of boots on over my leggings.

"You're wearin' that?"

I looked down. Leggings, boots, oversized sweater. There was nothing wrong with my outfit. "We're goin' on a plane, which are not known for bein' comfortable. Somethin' wrong with my clothes, Miss Fashion Plate?"

She twirled, making her pretty dress float around her in swirls of lavender and white. "Nothin'. I'm just givin' you a hard time, crabby. You look so cute I almost can't believe you dressed yourself."

"I don't know why I subject myself to you."

"Because you love me."

"Let's go before we miss our flight." I grabbed my purse, double checked that I had everything I thought I'd need, and headed for the front door.

Sam, who'd known something was up because he'd disappeared after I'd let him in the house earlier, was parked at the front door, head on his paws and a pitiful look in his eyes. I got down on my knees and kissed his head.

"You be good, now. Don't be comin' home all spoiled." His tail thumped, his tongue swept across my cheek, and I laughed and wiped at the spot. "That's gross, now I smell like doggy breath. Bye, buddy."

The limo driver was standing next to the car waiting on us. While he put my bags into the trunk, I crawled into the back behind Alice. It was all leather and dark surfaces, bar on one side and a long bench seat on the other.

"Is all of this really necessary?"

She shrugged. "Probably not, but it's kind of excitin', right?"

"Guess so." Personally, I thought it was way too much for this country girl.

~o~

The limo picked up Rose and she was like a little kid. She bounced from seat to seat, opened the bar, tried to stand and look out the sunroof—until she figured out that it wasn't a good idea on the highway—and then settled down to giggle with Alice, and inform me on the plans for the week.

". . . and then we'll work out the tour dates. If there are any cities you really want to go, you better think of them now."

"Isn't that all based on where they think we'll sell tickets?" I asked, looking up from the text I was sending to Ben. Good thing he'd hired Riley—he was going to be short an employee this week. "We're not exactly playin' sold-out shows just yet."

Rose frowned at me. "Yeah, but we might be able to squeeze one or two shows in if we really want to visit some specific place. Leah seems to think the guys will be okay with it."

I snorted. Of course they would. Alice would just bat her eyes at Jasper and make him think he was getting somewhere with him and we'd be able to go play Hawaii if we wanted to.

My phone beeped, and I looked down thinking I was about to get reamed for skipping work so last minute, but it was a picture message instead. Sam, head poking out of the window of a black SUV, was above a caption that read _on our way to the dog park. _

"He's gonna get that car all dirty," I said, more to myself than anyone else.

"What're you mutterin' about?" Rose said.

"Here." I tossed her my phone. "Edward's got Sam while we're gone."

She smiled at the picture, handed my phone back to me. "You gave him visitation?"

"Very funny. I'm gonna come back home and he won't want nothin' to do with me, just watch."

The limo veered onto an unfamiliar turn and I noticed that we were headed to the other side of the airport.

"Where we goin'?"

"That's the best part," said Alice, rolling down her window. "They got us a private jet."

"Oh, this is plain ridiculous. We don't need all of this!"

Rose tapped my boots with hers. "All right, Debbie Downer. Enough. Stop sulkin' and just enjoy it. We're gonna soak this shit up and you're gonna like it. I don't want no sourpuss face on the front of our album."

Feeling like a chastised child, I sat back and crossed my arms. Hell, I _was _behaving like a child, and that irritated me even further. I'd actually been in a good mood for a short time this morning.

"Sorry. Maybe in another hour I'll be sociable."

Rose checked her watch. "Nah, it's almost ten thirty. You'll be in bitch mode until at least noon."

"Shut up," I said, cracking a small smile. "If you get me another coffee, I'll try and be nicer."

"I'm sure there will be coffee on the plane."

After that I did lighten up some. The walk across the tarmac was certainly entertaining—Rose was all Hollywood cool, long dress flapping around her ankles, huge sunglasses in place. Alice couldn't stop taking pictures with her phone: first of the plane and flight crew waiting to greet us on the tarmac, then of our ascent up the steps. The interior of the plane was luxe, and even I felt a swell of excitement when I slid into a leather window seat and stowed my bag beneath me.

I'd flown first class before, but this blew that out of the water.

The flight attendant, Kebi, sat a bottle of champagne down on a table and handed me an envelope. "Mr. Cullen wanted you to have this."

_Congratulations on finishing an incredible compilation of your best music to date. Big things await you, and I hope this journey is everything you dreamed of. _

_ Edward_

I read it twice and flipped the card over to see if there was anything more, but there wasn't.

Alice was looking at me when I looked back up. "What did it say?"

"It was from Edward . . . just wishing us the best." I held it out to her, watched her eyes turn teary at the encouraging words from her brother. Rose whooped when she read it, said that of course it was an incredible album because it was ours, and then grabbed the bottle of champagne.

"Let's crack this bad boy open and get the party started!"

There was time for a toast before takeoff, and we held our glasses up and got mushy about how proud we were of each other.

It was a whole new experience being whisked off to New York City this time, especially when I separated the times before and now. Now it was about us and not just because I was tagging along on someone else's dream. Excitement gathered in my chest, tingled in my fingertips. Before they asked us to turn off all of our electronics I pulled out my phone and typed out one more text.

_Thank You._

~o~

New York was fast paced on a daily basis, but with our schedule, it seemed doubly so.

Leah met us in downtown Manhattan to go over cover design, marketing strategy and potential tour dates on the first day. She was straight forward and efficient, and I liked her immensely. She seemed to know exactly what was best for us and she didn't sugarcoat anything, and we worked late into the night getting everything that we could nailed down.

Our second day was much the same as the first, though we went out to dinner at some hip new place that I largely suspected we were only able to get into because of the guys' name behind us. Leah let loose with us, and we all left with more than half our body weight in alcohol inside our bellies.

The third day was for clothes. We were woken up at the buttcrack of dawn to pile into a van that would take us to the place where our fittings would be held. Hungover—and I suspected that Rose might still be drunk—we dozed on the way there. Even Alice was less than exuberant; she grumbled about the potholes in the streets we took, whined that any tight clothes would make her hurl.

"See, it's not so fun being a pincushion, now is it?"

"Least the makeup people will be there," she moaned. "Because I could park a car in the bags under my eyes."

"Shhh," Rose said from the backseat. "I'm tryin' to sleep it off."

The building we ended up at looked more like a warehouse, and we were introduced to our own personal stylists.

Jessica, who was assigned to me, apparently had been warned about my reticence. She didn't push me into trying on clothes but rather handed me a cup of coffee—complete with caramel and vanilla—and sat on a chair making conversation.

"Did you grow up in Nashville?"

"Sure did. Well, more on the outskirts."

"I grew up in a small town in Washington State," she said, grimacing. "Used to make me feel so pressed in and I couldn't wait to get out of there and find a job in fashion."

"I guess I could understand that." Not exactly, but I understood her drift, at least. I felt the same way about city life. It seemed so heavy there, so compressed and frenetic. Nashville was a city, sure, but there was also wide open spaces; the air was sweeter, the sky brighter. Life was easier, too.

But I guessed everyone had their preferences.

We talked a while more about growing up in small towns, about her life here in the city and the fabulous parties she went to. I started to feel relaxed, began to wake up, too. And, after a couple of aspirin, like an actual human being and not a barfly.

Eventually she got up to look at the rack, pulled out a few things, and arranged them over the sofa. I watched her as she worked, thought that some of her choices weren't half bad . . . and some of them I wouldn't feel comfortable in at all. And then we got down to business.

I tried on everything she handed me, had to come out and show her each outfit. She tweaked, she paired different accessories, she removed this and added that. She also surprised me in a few places by agreeing that certain things I wasn't keen on just weren't me; one of the things I'd been unsure about actually ended up looking so good on me that it got put into the definite pile.

The girl certainly had taste, and I'd started to feel comfortable with her . . . until she put her hands beneath my breasts and poked and set about making them front and center.

"Whoa, there."

She put her hand on her hips. "You don't have any sisters do you?"

"Not sure what that has to do with anything, but no."

"Didn't think so." She pulled my hands off my boobs and started adjusting my straps again, like it was no big deal. "You'll get used to us being all up in your business, trust me. There." She nodded and took a step back. "Put on those red boots."

She stepped out from in front of me so I could look in the long mirror, and the figure staring back at me was me but just a little bit better. Her choices weren't far off from what I would have chosen for myself . . . if I had any taste.

"Looks good, right? And, girl, your boobs look fantastic. The boys will drool."

"Well, thanks, I think." I twirled around, watched the way the colors of my outfit played off of each other in just the right way. "I really do like this."

She handed me a robe. "Let's get you out of this so I can get Eric in here."

"Who's Eric?"

"Your hair and makeup guy."

I sighed, wondering how long that was going to take.

"Don't worry, he's really great at what he does. He's got this whole natural-but-knockout style that he's known for. You'll love him."

I nodded and set about getting out of my clothes. Hell, maybe I'd learn how to actually put on eyeliner finally.

Eric apparently wasn't ready yet, though, so I went next door where Rose was.

"Damn, girl."

Rose, decked out in a tight, suede, camel-colored dress and matching boots, looked amazing, long legs so noticeable that it made me feel like a dwarf by comparison.

"This is insane, Bella." She turned sideways and looked at her profile, did a little shimmy. "Can you just imagine what everyone back home will say?"

"They'll say you look hot. I'd even do ya."

Alice had walked up behind me, and I turned to see what clothes she'd gotten into, and then shook my head. She looked like a throwback to the sixties girl groups: black sequins and short hemlines, big heels. I couldn't pull that look off if I tried.

Before I could say anything, she said, "This one's just for me. We do have a release party, you know."

"I forgot all about that, actually. I should probably ask Jessica about that."

"Ask me what?"

"Oh. I didn't see you."

Jessica put her arm in mine, steered me back toward the room I'd been in. "Yeah, I just got here, but I need to steal you away again. You ready?"

"As I'll ever be. Later, guys. You both look beautiful."

"Time for makeup?" I asked.

"Time for makeup. Bella, this is Eric. He'll be making you look gorgeous today."

A small guy in head-to-toe black stood at the vanity arranging pots and bottles and tubes and big containers of who-knew-what-else. He wore a funny little belt with all sorts of brushes in it, like a construction belt but not quite so construction-y. I giggled and wondered if he had any spackle in his kit of wonders, because he was probably going to need it.

He greeted us by turning to look at us, throwing his hands over the side of his head, and looking shocked. Poor guy—I knew the feeling. I hoped he had a good enough grip so his head didn't explode.

"Look at that beautiful skin. Too heavy on the brows, though. Don't worry, we can fix that."

Not sure if I should feel complimented, or that my brows must look like caterpillars, I frowned at him.

"Well, not if you do that. But where are my manners? I am Eric, so happy to meet you."

His hands were softer than mine, and I looked down wondering what the hell sort of moisturizer he used and where I could find it.

"Sit, sweetie."

My normal makeup routine consisted of six items, all of them things I'd used for years. If I was going fancy, I threw in two colors of eyeshadow instead of one. Over the next hour, Eric used six things alone on just my skin. And three sorts of powder on my cheeks. And I lost count on everything that went into making my eyes up. And slowly his little tool belt emptied, brush by brush.

He and Jessica were fun, though. They played and tried out colors that made me worry, and gossiped about people they knew and people they didn't.

My phone beeped while Eric was busy mixing colors on the back of his hand. Over the course of the day, several texts had come in from Edward to let me know that Sam was doing just fine without me. This picture had him passed out in the middle of a large, downy looking bed, and I hoped Sam had been polite and hadn't pushed Edward out of his bed like he did me. I snickered and replied that he better have a spare bed for himself.

"Something interesting?" Eric asked.

"It's just about my dog. I left him with my ex this week." I scrolled to another picture of him lying in a chair in Edward's office.

"Bella here is the _other half_," Jessica said with a knowing tone.

Not sure that I was ready to be the next topic of gossip, I snapped my head around to look at her, the words 'soon-to-be-ex' on my tongue, but she wasn't looking at me.

Eric stopped what he was doing. "You lucky, lucky woman."

"So you guys have worked with him before?"

"Oh, yeah, sweetie. The whole band. They chose us for you because they knew we'd be a good fit."

Jessica laughed. "Yeah, and we're not too scary. Imagine if they'd sent in Heidi."

Eric shuddered and crossed himself. "Poor Bella here would have been in leather and chains. The horror of it all, honey."

Having no idea what, or who, they were talking about, I said, "Huh," And watched Eric as he began picking up bits of my hair and inspecting it.

"You need a trim desperately, sweetie. Maybe some shape, too. You think some choppy pieces here will look good, Jess? Or maybe something with longer layers?"

"I like the word long," I piped up. "I don't want my hair cut that much."

"Oh, I won't take off too much length. Just the dead ends and some layers to break it up. Don't fuss, you're in good hands. Promise I won't hack it off."

I made him promise that, and then followed him to the sink. After a night of drinking, not enough time to sleep it off, and a full morning, his massage of my scalp as he washed my hair left me so relaxed I could have fallen asleep and not cared.

"After hearing so much about you, it's nice to meet you finally," Eric said, rubbing more shampoo into my hair.

I opened one eye, "Uh oh. Is that good or bad?"

"Good. Your hubs mentioned you quite a bit, actually. I can see what he's talking about."

"You sure you're not just puttin' me on? Because I'm real sure you've probably heard some bad things about me. "

He placed a towel over my head and helped me to sit up. "Oh, I've heard a bunch of things. Some of them bad, but never from Edward. Jake, now . . . he's not your biggest fan."

"That's right. You'd know Jake, too. Sorry."

"Of course. Grade A asshole."

"You _do _know him."

"Yes. He's one of the most conceited people I've ever worked with. Girl, I could spill some tea about that one . . ."

I had no idea why he wanted to spill tea, but I barreled on like I knew what he was talking about anyway. "He's a bully is what he is."

"Egotistical," said Jessica.

"Jealous."

"Smallish."

I turned around to look at Eric. He shrugged his shoulders. "I've seen the man undressed. Nothing to write home about."

I laughed out loud then. "I think I like you, Eric."

"I think I like you, too."

And then they got back to work, and it was a little easier for me to relax. Jess leaned back on the counter, once again falling into a conversation about people I didn't know, but it was fine. All of the pampering and gussying up was something I wasn't used to, but it wasn't exactly bad, either.

Matter of fact, I might'a been able to see myself getting used to it rather quickly. I closed my eyes and let their conversation float in the air around me, wondered what I'd look like when they finally let me see a mirror.

. . . Wondered if I could ask Eric later to give me eyeliner pointers.

"You ready to see the new you?" he asked some time later.

I opened my eyes and waited impatiently for him to spin me back around, and then lost my breath.

"Wow."

My hair was shorter, but not by much, and it looked so smooth done up in large, soft waves. I could tell he'd done something to it, but not in a drastic, bad way. The makeup was pretty, too: noticeable but not heavy, sort of dewy and natural save for my eyes. Thos he'd played up, made dramatic and deep and I couldn't stop starin'.

"I think you should come live with me," I said. "I have a nice house and an extra bedroom." I started to get up but he placed his hands on my shoulders.

"Thank you for the offer, but I'm not done just yet. We're going all the way here before you revolt."

"Oh-kay?"

Jessica handed him a bowl of water and pushed a rolling table over. He put my hands into the water, warm and sort of slippery, and pulled a chair in front of me. "Manicure time, fair Bella."

"I am at your mercy."

It had been a long time since I'd had a real manicure. I painted my nails at home often enough, even liked doing it, but I didn't get too technical. My nails weren't long because I played guitar, and my hands were calloused more often than not from the strings. But they weren't chewed down to the quick, either, and sort of my one girly pleasure.

Eric soaked my hands and then squirted some sort of gel all over my nails. Took a metal tool and scraped them, cleaned up the cuticles that I picked at too often when I got nervous. Clucked his tongue at me and told me every time I did that, they would only grow back in harder and less easy to take care of. He shaped, he buffed, he grabbed a color that looked black in the bottle and turned out to be so much more than that.

"That's pretty," I said, watching the colored glitter hidden inside the black, jelly like color show up. It had depth, looked like fireworks reflected over inky water at night. "What color is that?"

"One I made myself," he said. "I call it four."

It was clever. Four colors all in one, and I told him so. He promised to send me a bottle, and I got way too excited about that.

Jessica ignored us and sorted out the clothes we'd be using for the photo shoot, making sure to set out the outfit I'd liked so much

"So this is only practice and I have to do it again?"

"Yep. Tomorrow morning at six.."

"Ugh. Not exactly my primetime."

"That's what we're here for."

Eric focused on layering clear coat over my nails, and said quietly, "I know it's not my place, but he's a good man."

My heart strings vibrated a little. "I know. There were just too many things. We . . . we didn't work out the way we were supposed to."

"I see that a lot in this business. He's a good person, though, works hard at his music, hasn't got much time for the rest of it. Jake tried, but he rebuffed him time and again."

I looked up from my fingers. "Jake?"

Eric tossed a look to Jessica who was bagging everything up for tomorrow and shaking her head.

"She hates it when I gossip about our clients, but . . . whatever. Jake's a snake and he's never been decent to me. Thinks my 'condition' will rub off on him. Or something, I don't know. Typical backwater way of thinking, no offense to you. He parties too damn much, brings girls around that aren't after him for his sparkling personality. They want to meet Edward and they use him to get a foot in the door. Ed doesn't bite, though." He shook his head and said, "Well, one got closer than the rest."

A sinking feeling clenched my stomach into knots. Had I been dumb to believe Alice, and later Edward? I mean . . . it was only natural that a guy on top of the world would try and get some, after all. Especially one who'd been served with divorce papers. And hadn't I said that I didn't care?

Did I?

Trying to be casual about it, I said, "Anyone I know?"

"Tanya Denali? She was an executive assistant at Volturi Records. Made herself indispensable to him when things kind of took off. Intriguing watching her work, she's sly, but, like I said, he wasn't interested."

I told myself that the relief I felt was normal . . . but I didn't know what it was that I was feeling.

"Lord above. Jake's such a jackass, I swear to God. I don't get the way he treats his supposed friends," I said pulling my fingers away. "Sorry."

"Psht. No worries. You're done, anyway." He capped the bottles back up and started cleaning the tools he'd usd on my nails. "You ever had someone in your life that's so full of it they believe everyone should think and act like they do? Guy wants everyone to be on his level."

"He's pretty much the only person I've ever met like that. He's always been that way."

"I've watched him wreak havoc to make himself look and feel good. Probably was jealous that Edward had everything—an amazing career, talent, a beautiful wife."

"But you know we're not—"

"Yeah, you guys had a curve ball thrown your way and you struck out." He looked up at me, brown eyes full of understanding. "Doesn't mean the game is over, know what I mean?"

I didn't say anything in response.

He took a little excess off of the edge of my cuticle. "There. Give it ten minutes before you do anything."

I raised my hand and moved it so the light would catch the tiny colored flecks in the deep black lacquer, deciding right then that it was nice to be pampered and cared for in a way I wasn't used to.

There was a knock on the door; a tall, blond woman entered the room and the energy seemed to shift by degrees. Eric and Jessica straightened up, lost some of the causal demeanor of just a few minutes before. They both turned their attention to her, but she was staring at me.

On the surface her smile was nice-like, friendly, even, but something about it was . . . off. Like she had to work to keep it there. Her smile didn't reach her eyes in the least little bit.

Jessica spoke first. "We just finished the fittings and have everything set for tomorrow."

"Including all three wardrobe changes?"

"Yes. Tanya, this is Bella."

"Of course I know who she is."

~o~

* * *

_You guys are amazing with your comments. My weeks have been crazy working two different jobs and getting ready to do a wedding cake this weekend so please know, even if I don't reply right away, how much your comments mean to me._

_Song – This One's for the Girls – Martina McBride_

_This has truly become a collab of sorts with nicnicd. She always props me up, plays with my words and delivers something that always makes me smile. xo_


	13. Chapter 13

_**Birds of a Feather**_

_**Chapter Thirteen**_

_**BPOV**_

There were a lot of things about the music industry that were difficult to get used to, especially for a small-town girl experiencing it for the first time. Back in the day, I really hadn't worried too much about the girls who hovered around Edward and the guys. I'd been confident in what we had, studied enough of the scene going on around me to know who the players were and who the groupies and wannabes were, too. It was easy to pick out the troublemakers.

And, even though it had been a while since I'd had to even think about it, my radar was pinging now.

As Tanya talked to Eric and Jessica, blatantly ignoring me in the process, something in her tone made me take notice. She was trying to piss me off, show her authority and place in this world without expressly saying so. But she didn't know me: I wasn't afraid of confrontation—hell, I sought it out on my own often enough—and it only made me sit up straighter and wait for the challenge.

Over Jessica's head, I caught Tanya watching me in the mirror and I met her gaze evenly and stared right back.

Still refusing to acknowledge me, she turned to Jessica. "I want to start at eight A.M. sharp. There's a tight deadline for these photos now. I trust you can get it done?"

Jessica typed something into her phone and said, "Of course."

With one last glance at Eric—and not a single one for me—the troublemaker left the room.

And that's exactly what she was. All talk, with a gummy bite. Her tall, lithe form melted in the hallway, shoulders slumping and arms going loose. I smirked.

Yeah, I still had it.

"I thought you said she worked for Volturi records. What does that have to do with any of this?"

Eric went back to sorting his products into a large black case. "I hadn't gotten to that part yet. She still works for Volturi, just not directly. She's at one of their subsidiaries in marketing and promotion. They offered her the job last year; Leah works for her and so do we."

"Funny, I've never heard her mentioned before."

"Nothing to tell."

Jessica sighed. "She's good at what she does. Edward and Jasper probably wanted someone to get you right out there using the best people they had at their disposal."

"Well, I'm obviously not one of her favorites."

"But you're one of theirs. And I can guarantee you she sees the potential; she's no dummy."

I contemplated that as I put my street clothes back on. It made sense, but still I wondered what her motivations were. Edward and I were no longer together and if he wanted to go that way I supposed he could, but I'd never heard him mention her. Not once. Maybe I'd ask him casually, bring her up during one of our writing sessions. They were the only times I'd found we could be honest with each other without it dissolving into a screaming match.

Because, for the first time in a long while, I wanted to know what he was doing. Admitting to myself that I still cared was a hard pill to swallow, though, especially when I had no idea what that even meant.

I said a quiet goodbye to Jessica and Eric and went down the hallway into Alice's dressing room. She'd been texting me all afternoon about plans for shopping tonight and I had agreed to go, but now I just wanted a night in with my thoughts. I knocked on her door frame and waited for her to look up.

"Mind if I meet you guys back at the hotel?"

"Not at all. I knew you wouldn't want to go."

I shrugged, tried not to let my thoughts crowd my face. Alice would insist on staying in with me, and I didn't want her to miss out on her fun. "I'm predictable like that. Pick me out something pretty though, yeah?"

"For sure. See you in the mornin'?"

"Yup. Have fun."

We said our goodbyes and I took an elevator down to the lobby. The streets were busy when I got outside, afternoon sun disappearing slowly. Already life felt too fast; the honks and hollers of cabbies in rush hour traffic, the rumbling of full city busses, all of it was restricting. I took a deep breath and coughed, reminded that I was no longer surrounded by clean, Tennessee air.

I looked up and down the crowded sidewalks, figured out which way the direction my hotel was in, and took off walking in the opposite direction to find the nearest stop for the subway.

I didn't have a fully formed plan, but I knew exactly where I was heading and my heart started to do that little flippy thing it did when I was nervous.

During the time I'd spent in New York, I'd done a lot of exploring on my own. The subway was one of the few things I'd really liked about my time there because there was always something interesting to see while on it. People to watch, playlists to make for whatever head space I was in. Today a young couple sat across from me all bundled up in bright knits and ratty sneakers, and clearly in love. Oblivious to anyone else around them they sat turned in to each other, a book in her lap and his fingers in her hair as she explained whatever it was she was reading to him. He smiled wider the more animated she got.

We were like that once.

I looked away to allow them their space and let my eyes wander around the rest of the car. Nothing as interesting or as dangerous to my head as the couple in front of me, so I turned to watch the walls outside passing by in a blur. When we reached Canal Street, I stepped off and headed to the stairwell on autopilot.

"Why am I doin' this?" I muttered.

No one even looked my way as I talked to myself. New Yorkers—they'd seen it all before.

The familiar streets above ground provided me with a little comfort, surprisingly, and the hustle and bustle in the street wasn't as much a bother as I thought it would be. I hadn't _liked _living in the city, but I had done my best to make it a home while I was there. Now, watching people move about on their own missions, I decided that it was just a part of my history, probably something I'd never forget.

The weather was chilly so I stopped to grab a coffee on the corner just down the street from where we used to live. Coffee in hand, I bundled up and started toward our loft.

His loft.

I'd long ago given up the keys, but there were still some things of mine stored there. Bits and pieces, old memories I hadn't wanted to remember when I left. I wondered if he'd held onto them or if they were lying forgotten in some trash heap somewhere. The tall, brick building that looked more like a school than housing stood tall in front of me and I stared at it like I was waiting for it to invite me in.

I searched the brick façade, eyes roving over the windows until I found the right cluster of panes. I squinted at the darkened glass, waited for someone to magically appear, but there was nothing.

No one home; just an empty space, a couple of walls, and a few windows. I'd tried to make it _a _home, but it had never been _my _home. It was here I'd learned I was pregnant. A heavy ache reappeared in my chest as I thought about that day, all alone, husband gone on tour, and a new life in my body. I'd wanted so badly to go home right away and had rushed him to move me back to Nashville, scared I would be alone without family or friends to be around when I needed them.

It was too late when I realized that my home was wherever Edward was.

~o~

"What's up with you?" Rose asked, watching me cut my steak.

After I'd left Edward's loft, I knocked around the city by myself for a while until the girls texted asking me to meet them for dinner. Now I was more dressed up than I felt like being, and my steak suddenly didn't taste so good anymore.

"I'm tired, not much to say."

"Uh huh. I think you're lyin'. What'd you do after you left the studio today?"

"I went back to the hotel for a nap."

Rose snorted into her wine glass.

I sighed. "All right, fine. I went down to the loft and stood on the sidewalk for about a half an hour. Had some things on my mind."

"Why on earth would you go back there?"

Alice lifted her wine glass and took a drink. "I can see it. Why wouldn't she?"

"Yeah, yeah. You're just all-knowin', aren't ya?"

"Have I been wrong so far?"

Glad that the heat was off me for the moment, I sat back and watched them yammer back and forth. For once, I wasn't the one with the acid tongue and it was quite fun to watch.

"Oh, you're wrong plenty. How's Jasper been?"

"I don't know," Alice replied, and she looked madder than a spitting cat. "Maybe you should ask him because he isn't any of my business."

Whoops. Time to turn this train onto a new track. "So, um, Alice? Have you met this Tanya before?"

"No. Haven't even seen her before today."

"Edward never mentioned her?"

She looked at me, cocked her head. "No, why?"

"Well," I said, drawing out the word. "She came by my dressin' room and had quite the bitch face for me. I was just wonderin' why. Eric and Jess kind of hinted that she was after him at some point. You know anything about that?"

"As much as I love my brother, believe me, he doesn't give up a lot of information."

"Don't I know it."

"Speakin' of lemon faces, I got one too. Maybe that's just how she is," added Rose.

"Naw, there was more to it."

"I don't know for sure, but I don't think it's anything to get your panties in a bunch over, Bella. He works hard, and I do know that when he wasn't makin' albums or tourin', he was workin' on sessions with other artists. I've said it before, I'll say it again: he didn't leave time for that and I don't think he was ready for someone new."

"Oh. Well, that's good I guess. I didn't know he was doin' sessions with other artists," I said, trying to take the conversation out of the deep territory we'd veered into.

"You didn't want to know anything and I wasn't goin' to volunteer it. You weren't in the best space then."

I picked up my wine glass and took a healthy slug. "Yeah, I know."

Alice threw her hands up. "She finally admits she wasn't doin' all right! This is a calendar day."

"Hush up, now."

"For real, though, neither of you were easy to deal with. You're both stubborn asses, and I just gave up talkin' about it to the both of ya. Can only beat my head against a wall so much before I get a headache."

My throat tightened and I thought about the way we'd behaved. While he buried himself in his music and impending fame, I'd shut everyone out, embarrassed and humiliated and thinking I didn't want any scrutiny or need help. "We kind of put you through hell, huh?"

"Yeah. Was hard for all of us."

I reached across to cover her hand with mine. "Sorry?"

She smiled. "You don't have to be sorry. I'm your friend and love you regardless."

The night ran late and so flowed the wine.

~o~

The next day, I arrived at my designated dressing room, slung my bag onto the sofa and flopped down into the makeup chair. Eric found me soon after, clucking after he took one look at me. "I see you brought extra bags today."

"Sorry."

"Oh well. We can make the redness and puffiness in your lips work for us. Won't need to use as much lip plumper."

Jessica entered the room and handed me my coffee.

"Thanks. Ya know, if y'all are ever in the mood for a countrified life, I have extra bedrooms and a big back yard. My dog likes company."

As Eric went to work cleaning and depuffing my skin, I closed my eyes and relaxed. They were kind, leaving most of the conversation light. It was a welcome change from yesterday and it helped me face the oncoming day of being twisted into poses that'd make people want to know what the voices behind the faces sounded like. After a couple of hours, I was primed and groomed and in my first wardrobe change when we were escorted to the set.

The photographer, Laurent, was a tall lean man, with a cool European accent. He greeted us and went immediately into the concept for the shoot.

Suddenly uncomfortable in my duds, I yanked the hemline of the skirt that now felt too short down.

Rose spoke out of the side of her mouth. "Loosen up, would ya?"

"What am I supposed to do?" I hissed. "I'm not used to this."

"Girls. We're looking for fun and carefree, not angry and spiteful," said Laurent. Eric giggled in the back but covered his mouth when he got a dirty look.

By our second wardrobe change, I had loosened up some. Laurent had picked up on our personalities and worked some kind of magic on me, joking and encouraging in a way that made the whole thing feel more natural. Our music played in the background and it helped, gave me an idea of the way I wanted to portray myself.

In all of the chaos I hadn't noticed Edward at first. People had been coming and going all day, and the photographer's assistants were plentiful. By the time I saw him I had no idea how long he had been there or if he'd just arrived, but he stood near the doorway with a serious expression on his face. My first thought was about Sam and where he was, but I didn't have time to call out and ask.

Tanya walked in and made a beeline straight for him, sidling up to his side and making a comment in his ear. "Come on," I whispered. "I'm right freakin' here."

Rose looked at me then, and Laurent yelled at us all about not focusing.

"Don't sweat it," she said. "You'll look mean in your pictures."

Before I turned my attention back to what I was supposed to be doing, I saw that whatever the troublemaker was saying wasn't important enough to draw his eyes away from the shoot.

I smiled, and Laurent hooted happily and snapped away. "A few more of this one, ladies, and then it's time for the last wardrobe change and then we can wrap it up."

Eric came to get me when it was time to change—the heels they'd put me in were snazzy but serious death traps—and I passed by where Edward and Tanya stood. I smiled at him but said nothing, stared at Tanya for a few seconds, and caught the perplexed look Edward wore as I left the room.

"I have to check on something, so I need you to go ahead and get into this outfit," Eric said, hanging a garment bag onto a hook on the wall. "There was an emergency with something of Rose's and Jessica's down there helping out. I'll be back in a few minutes to touch up your hair and makeup."

I waited until he left and then kicked off the shoes, and sat down for a breather. I didn't know what had got into me, why I'd given Tanya two seconds, but it felt . . . good, actually. I couldn't pat myself on the back just yet, though, so I stood and started undressing.

A few minutes later there was a knock at the door. Eric. I was still in my bra and underwear and nowhere near ready for him to fix me up. "Um, not yet," I shouted at the door.

It opened anyway, and I turned around and saw Edward.

"Hey!" I grabbed for the garment bag, held it in front of me.

"I'm pretty sure I've seen it before."

I glared at him. "Doesn't matter. There's this thing called privacy. And what are you doing here, anyway? Where's Sam?"

While I grabbed a robe and tried to get into while still holding the garment bag, he played with his phone. I was knotting the robe when he held out the phone to me. It was a picture of Sam curled up in his office chair back in Tennessee.

"Left him with Bree for the day. Trust me, she's perfectly capable. Said he went straight to the office and scratched on the door so she let him in. Guess he made himself comfortable."

"For the day?"

He took his phone back, crossed the room to sit at the vanity. "I wanted to see how things were going, how you guys were doing."

"A phone call would have been sufficient."

"Yeah, I'm not so good about that."

There were so many smartass comments I could make, but I just wasn't in the mood to fight with him today. I stared at him instead and he shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, I didn't know I was making two people pretty today."

I turned and saw Eric in the doorway. "Sorry, I'm not ready yet."

"I see that. Okay, Edward. I need you out of here so I can get her ready. Outta my chair unless you want me to give you a daytime look, too."

Edward laughed and stood, gave a silly little bow to Eric. "Nah, don't think all my rugged handsomeness would look good with pink shit on my cheeks. See y'all when you get back in there."

Eric stood with his hands for his hips as Edward closed the door, and then spun on his heel and grabbed the garment bag. "Don't know what that was about, but you've blown your privacy time. Strip and let's get out there."

He got me into my last outfit and then mussed up my hair until I looked like some wild child. The lipstick this time around was darker, the eye shadow he added on top of the work he'd already done was smoky and sultry.

I hadn't worn anything as tight as the corset top he put me into since my wedding dress, and even then there'd been a helluva lot more layers to cover up the fact that one big breath would split the fabric. The jeans were too tight, too. When he was done I looked at myself in the mirror and . . .

"Hot, right?" Eric moved a piece of hair to swoop over my eye. "Cover-worthy material right here."

"It's different, but I think I like it."

Edward was talking to Laurent when we got back, and I looked around the room to see if any of the girls were done. My eyes landed on Tanya who stood glowering at me in front of the craft services table. I had no idea what bug had crawled up her ass, but I found that I didn't care much.

Way I saw it, she worked for us. And there were other people who could do what she did if she kept it up.

The last shot was fun; the setting involved an old leather sofa and miles of dark, brocade fabric draped to look like wallpaper. The clothes and makeup made sense for it, and when Rose and Alice joined me, they looked just as good as I did.

"Nice," I said. "Let's do this, then."

Every so often I would look over and catch Edward's attention on us . . . or maybe he was just watching me. It was hard to tell. We were in new territory, he and I, and I wasn't sure anymore that he was being truthful about his reasons for coming back to Tennessee. Sometime soon we would have to have another conversation that probably wouldn't be easy, but this weird back and forth needed to stop.

Leah stood at his side this time, her attention split between her phone and what was going on in the room. He was clearly talking to her the last time I looked over at him but he wasn't looking at her, and I rolled my eyes at him and left him to it.

He'd tell me what he was thinking, eventually. Or I'd just sass him until he did.

When we finished the shoot, I couldn't wait to get out of the high heeled boots and tight bodice. Matter of fact, I started tugging at the laces of the stays as I headed for the dressing room.

Edward fell into step beside me, stopped me with a hand on my arm.

"Hey. You guys looked terrific."

"Thanks."

"When you're done, I'm plannin' on stealin' you for a bit. There's a few people I want you to meet."

"Is Leah okay with that? Girl runs a tight ship and if you go interruptin' her, well, I fear for your balls."

"Don't you worry about my balls, they're safe. I already ran it by her."

I looked at him. "Trust me, I'm not."

"If you say so. C'mon, go get ready and we can go."

First he'd seen me practically naked today, and now we were talking about his dangly bits. I shook my head, saw that Rose and Alice had already disappeared back to their respective dressing rooms, and sighed. "Fine. I'll be out in a few."

Jessica was waiting for me to help me get out of the corset, and Eric was packing up his kit. I thanked them both, told them I was glad to have met them, and then they left me alone to haul some stuff out of the room. No sooner than they were gone another body walked through the door.

"Good Lord! Doesn't anybody knock?"

When I turned around Tanya stood just inside the door. Great, just what I was in the mood for. The room, which had felt just fine with friendly people in it, now felt entirely too small.

"What can I do for you?"

She pursed her lips. "I'm only doing this project as a favor to Edward, but I couldn't leave without saying what needs to be said."

I pulled my t-shirt over my head and leaned on the table. "By all means, let 'er rip."

"You put him through hell and he doesn't deserve that kind of shit from anyone."

"Uh-huh, sure. You his protector, then?"

"Maybe I am." She shrugged, smiled smugly. "Your selfish little antics broke his heart, though, so I thought maybe someone should tell you to check your attitude."

I'd always heard people talk about cars going zero to sixty in so many seconds, but I bet I had that beat with how fast my anger rose to the surface. I pushed off the counter and stepped in her direction.

"Let me get this straight. One, you're the 'professional' they hired, and clearly you're workin' for someone you don't rightly care much for. Way I see it, you should do what you're gettin' paid for and behave like this is business. Might take a lot for you to smile and play nice, what with that stick shoved so far up your ass, but you don't come at me that way. Secondly, my personal business is none of yours. So, in short, you should really back the fuck off."

I grabbed my sweater, boots and bag, and left the room. I reached Edward half-dressed and spitting fire. He looked at me and then back to my dressing room. I didn't have to turn to know she stood in the hallway.

"What happened?"

"Let's just go before I go all country on her ass."

There was a town car waiting for us at the curb, and he helped me climb inside. I muttered about my socks being dirty, put on my boots, and kept my mouth closed for a few blocks.

"Want to talk about it?"

"Not just yet. My blood pressure is finally is getting' back to normal."

"What'd Tanya say to you?"

"Nothin', I just don't like her. Find someone else to handle us because she's not getting paid off of me." I turned my head to look at him, saw that his eyes were narrowed into slits, and then I was off and running. "Matter of fact, you and Jasper probably shouldn't work with her, either, if you want your label to do well. She'll just piss people off. Bet there's a ton of people who do her job, and they're probably better at it. More professional-like. And you make sure she stays far away from me, too."

"Noted."

We didn't speak again until we reached our destination. Probably I should have felt bad for telling him how to run his business, but I just didn't. I looked up at the covered walkway and then back at him. "This where we're goin'?"

"Yes and no. This is our first destination. Thought you'd want something to eat before I take you over to the studio."

I grabbed my bag and waited for the driver to open the door. "You're takin' me to Volturi. Why?"

"Eventually. I worked for some influential people there, I want you to meet them. Doesn't hurt in this industry."

The lunch was good and we were pleasant enough. He asked about the time we'd spent in New York and what I'd thought of the shoot, and I asked him about Sam. We navigated around Tanya and her antics, which was probably for the best.

I thought she might just be all talk, and those sorts of people weren't worthy of my time or anger.

The studio was cool, though. Once we arrived at Volturi, people came out of the woodwork when they heard Edward was in the building. He included me in the conversations, talked up our upcoming album, and made sure I met all the movers and shakers.

"Hey man, good to see you!"

Another guy had approached us, and they shook hands while Edward introduced me to him.

"James, this is Bella."

"So this is the little lady. Now I see why you wouldn't come back."

His words made me uncomfortable. I didn't like my identity being reduced to just being the little woman. I wasn't, anyway.

"Well, it's all about the girls right now. Album's comin' out in a few weeks."

"Speaking of albums, I've got a couple of people that are dying for you to play on theirs. All it would take is a few phone calls."

"Got other priorities right now. Sorry, man."

James focused on me then, and I didn't miss the twitch in his cheek as he clenched his jaw. "You have one of the best in the business with him. You're lucky ladies. We'd be able to keep him busy for the next two years, but he insisted on heading home to take care of some unfinished business."

Edward shuffled his feet next to me and cut in to our conversations. "I'm gonna give her a quick tour before we go. I'll talk to you some other time, James."

"I'm holding you to that. Hurry back."

The rest of our time there was spent meeting people that he knew, and it sunk in how well respected Edward was there. One thing was for sure: the purpose of the day wasn't just to get my name on people's minds. It would hardly be beneficial to his label to talk me up so much and risk another label coming after us if we did well and found ourselves unhappy with Edward's company.

It verified what Alice and the others had said, though: he was a hard working man who gave his time to everyone. Well, everyone except me, but saying that wouldn't be fair after recent events.

As I smiled and played along, I thought that maybe I was aging like a fine wine. I hardly recognized this new maturity.

"You ready to go?" he asked a few hours later. "I'd offer to take you and the girls out for supper, but my flight leaves at eight."

"Yeah, I'm ready. And that's okay. The girls and I had plans already."

We got in the car and he instructed the driver to head for my hotel.

I looked at my nails, saw that the pretty polish Eric had put on me had already chipped on my thumb nail. "I appreciate you taking me around today. It was nice to see the other side."

"It was a good day. Glad you had fun."

"It's funny, you know? The shoot and gettin' all fancied up for someone to take my picture. Meetin' bigwigs and schmoozin' with them. Life is a whole helluva lot different for me than it was just a few months ago. I keep gettin' surprised when it's not as hard as I thought it would be."

"You shouldn't be. You're strong, Bella. You always have been. Maybe even stronger than me."

"Uh-huh, sure. I seen you haulin' hay and saddles at your mama and daddy's place a time or two. I'm not that strong."

"There's different sorts of strengths. I'm really proud of how you're handlin' this. Plus, you looked mighty pretty while they were snappin' your picture."

His eyes were on the window when I turned my head to look at him, but I could see the little smile he tried to hide.

Ass.

His words touched me, though, and I couldn't ruin them by spouting off a one-liner because I wasn't sure how else to handle his praise.

He was quiet for the rest of the ride and so was I; we played on our phones until the hotel came into view. I went to grab the door handle but stopped and turned in my seat.

"You got any plans on Sunday?"

"No, not that I'm aware of."

"You want to come out to the lake? I mean . . . to do a little writin'?"

That smile came back into view, and I returned it.

"Yeah. I'd like that."

~o~

* * *

_So sorry for the late post. It was one hellacious week that just got away from me. I'll do my best to get back on track next week. xo_

_Song – Over – Blake Shelton_

_Much love, BT. xo_


	14. Chapter 14

_**Birds of a Feather**_

_**Chapter Fourteen**_

_**BPOV**_

Over the past few weeks, Edward and I had found a neutral zone in songwriting. If I wanted answers it was the best place to ask for them because he seemed willing to give in that capacity; conversely, I was willing to take a step away from the boundaries I'd enforced in all other aspects of our working relationship, and instead take a leap into hearing him out.

There had been times in the studio or during meetings when our past issues resurfaced and got the better of us. It was nowhere as bad as when he first returned to town, but we had out moments—and we were cognizant of them and the people around us, too. Along the way our writing time had become a sort of confessional; one where each party was allowed to have opinions and we could gnash them out to our hearts content.

So, with everything that had happened in New York—along with the things I was just plain nosey about—it seemed natural to invite Edward out to the lake with me. Plus, my daddy was keen on having him out for a spot of fishing and a chat. He'd all but whooped with joy when I told him I was bringing Edward over for Sunday supper with me, talked me into bringing him out earlier so they could go fishing, too.

"Daddy, we're gonna to be workin'. He's a busy guy, I don't know that he'll have a whole day to spend up at your place."

"That sounds like a pile of horseshit to me, kid. And I thought your album was finished, anyway."

I sighed. "It is, but we're already workin' on material for the next one. Because apparently that's how you become successful."

He was quiet for a minute and I thought I'd won, but then he said, "You bring him out early enough to give us some time on the lake to chat, and then you can write in the afternoon. Easy fix and everyone will be happy."

I threw a dishrag I'd been holding and gave up. My father was as brick of a wall as I was—I definitely hadn't gotten it from my mama's side. "Fine, okay. I'll get the food started while y'all are playin' around. You know, you're lucky you're my favorite guy. Don't know anybody that'd willingly bring their ex around for you to spend all day with."

"See you bright and early on Sunday, then," he said, and then he hung up on me.

I looked at Sam, who was currently gnawing on the dishrag I'd tossed, rolled my eyes, and wondered why the men in my life all had to be such pains-in-the-butts. And then I picked up the phone to see if Edward wanted to go fishing with my daddy.

~o~

Five thirty in the morning on a Sunday was a ridiculous time to be awake. I was not a happy camper when Edward knocked on my door, and I held the door open wordlessly for him and then went back to tossing notebooks and water and a real change of clothes into a bag.

"You look . . . comfy."

I _humph_ed while looking down at my paint-splattered, flannel sleep pants and old high school homecoming t-shirt. I wasn't getting dressed up for company before the butt-crack of dawn, and if he didn't like it . . . well, tough.

"That's because I am. Be right there."

"What if I planned on takin' you out for breakfast?" he called after me as I veered down the hallway leading to my bedroom.

"McDonald's has a drive-thru."

Sam, anxious to greet the company, launched himself off my bed as soon as I opened the door and went tearing down the hallway. I uttered a few choice curses about damn dogs and fucked up wood floors, grabbed my guitar, a scarf, and my jacket, and met Edward in the living room.

He was bent over and petting the wriggling black lump of a dog, and Sam was doing his best to take Edward's feet out from under him.

"You ready, or can I go back to bed until a more decent hour?"

"You're cheerful, ain't ya?"

"Yeah, that's just the tone I was goin' for."

"C'mon, Sammy boy. Let's get out to the truck before the she-beast incinerates us with her laser stare."

"I heard that," I muttered, grabbing the travel-mug of coffee I'd set out and my things.

Sam didn't seem to care much that I was grumpy—he ran straight to the SUV and sat patiently next to the passenger door, tail thumping on the driveway. I yawned, fumbled with my things, and tried to lock the door while still holding my coffee.

Edward held out his hands. "Let me get that."

I stood on the porch a moment longer than I meant to and watched him take my things to the car. It was a new habit of his, being all polite and helpful, and the little gestures didn't go unnoticed.

Hell, I didn't even give him guff about it most of the time.

"Let's get this show on the road," he called, holding the door of the truck open for Sam. "I got a morning of fishin' with the Chief to get to."

Once I was in my seat, I said, "Sorry, don't want to delay your bromance with my daddy."

He ignored me. "You hungry?"

"No, it's too early to be hungry. Why, are you?"

He laughed. "Of course. I'll grab something on the way up. Go back to sleep, Bella. You look tired."

The heated seats were already turned up on my side of the car and it didn't take long before my eyelids started to feel heavy. Edward, clearly giving up on small talk, hummed along to an old blues album, Sam snored in the backseat, and I closed my eyes, strangely content.

~o~

"Bout time y'all got here. How was the drive?"

My father was waiting on us in the driveway when we pulled up, and had helped grab our things out of the truck. I'd like to think he was being nice, but I knew he was just anxious to get out on the lake. November was the last month he could fish for Crappie, and he was obsessive about knowing their feeding patterns.

"Mornin', Daddy." I kissed his cheek and grabbed Sam's collar. "Drive was fine; I slept."

"Chief." Edward sat the guitar cases down at his feet and stuck out his hand. "Good to see ya. Ready to get on the lake so I can show ya a few things?"

My dad laughed heartily and grasped Edward's hand. "Son, there ain't a single thing you can teach me about fishin' that I don't already know. Let's get Bella settled and get goin'. Dawn is here and the fish are on the move."

It didn't take long before they were high-tailing it down the back lawn. I watched them from the kitchen window as they climbed into the boat and sped over to the first sure-thing-hole. My coffee was cold, though, so I grabbed the pot from the counter, shook my head at the sad state of affairs, and started a fresh pot.

The contents of my dad's fridge were better than the last time I was out: a few more fresh veggies, some fruit and some nice cuts of meat in the freezer. I figured out he had the fixings for an apple pie and beef stew, and, with that all set, I grabbed an afghan my grandmother had crocheted years ago and snuggled up on the couch with a book.

The book wasn't as interesting as I would have hoped, though, and it left my mind free to wander.

I'd been a grouch this morning, had fully expected Edward to give me shit about it or get grumpy right back the way he used to before we'd fallen apart. But he hadn't. Matter of fact, I couldn't recall him picking a fight with me over much of anything in a long while.

Weird how easy we were getting along.

Eventually the grandfather clock chimed eleven; I knew the boys would be back in soon and found that I was looking forward to spending the afternoon with them. I marked the place in my book and got up to start my preparations for supper.

As I kneaded the dough and worked it on the floured board, an easy, calm settled into my rhythm while I worked. A fleeting thought at the back of my mind imagined a complete scene of harmony. Unwilling to explore something so unrealistically hopeful, I focused instead on shaping the crust for my pie.

I'd just put the apple pie in the oven when in walked the captain and his first mate.

"Told ya if'n you'd dropped your line closer to the floatin' dock, you'd have had a better chance."

Edward dropped into a chair, a surly expression on his face. "I did. And you still caught more."

I was guessing his fishing hadn't gotten any better in the intervening years, and that my daddy had whooped his ass in catches yet again. I stared at him until he looked up and winked at me; clearly he was enjoying the friendly banter with my dad.

My dad hung his vest on the hook just inside the door. "It wasn't close enough. I told ya that. That's your problem, son. You get an idea in your head and don't listen when folks tell you you're wrong."

Edward's jaw flexed. "I'm not wrong. I mean, I wasn't. I cast my line where you said. Sounds to me like you kept the best spot on your side of the boat."

"All right, manly men. Break it up. Coffee?"

"Sure," they said, one slightly after the other.

Smiling, I grabbed a couple of mugs and handed them each a fresh cup. My dad left the room but Edward stayed behind, intent on making some conversation.

"I'm enjoyin' myself so much, I don't know if I'll feel like workin'."

I held up the wooden spoon, pointing it directly at him. "Tough. The whole point of the day was getting' some songs done. You're not jackin' around just because you spent too long on the boat."

"You tryin' to tell me you didn't ask me out here just so you could spend time with me?" He put a hand on his heart. "You wound me, woman."

"Oh, hush," I said, turning to stir the pot of beef stew that was simmering. My lips quirked. "You'll live."

"Smells good."

"Thanks. Hey, get out of my hair and go visit with Charlie some more. I'm almost done here and then we can do a little writin'. Deal?"

He reached over my shoulder for a hunk of carrot and bit into it. "Deal."

He left to go into the living room and I finished cutting out the biscuits for later. Conversation from the room drifted out, but not at a volume I could make out enough to eavesdrop on. By the time the biscuits were in the oven, it was radio silence in the front room. I poked my head around the corner to see what they were up to.

Charlie was asleep in his Lazy Boy, glasses a little further down his nose. Edward was snoring softly, head resting on the back of the couch and Sam curled up beside him.

Shaking my head, I washed my hands and headed for the sun porch with my guitar.

As I played quietly, I was overcome with the realization that, for the first time in a really long time, I felt safe with my emotions . . . whatever it was they were.

Footsteps signaled the interruption before Edward stepped into the room, guitar in hand and face still red from sleep. "Hey, sleepy head."

He sat down his guitar and stretched, and a long yawn followed. "Yeah, haven't done that in a long time."

"Obviously you needed it." I looked down at my guitar, the way my fingers fluttered over strings and picked out a sweet, simple melody.

"Whatcha got goin'?"

"Thought I'd work the melody from 'Preacher' a bit, I had a new idea for lyrics." Recently, we'd started to refer to our songs with one word titles until we got the lyrics where we wanted them.

"Let's hear it."

I played for him and he listened, not offering any comments at all. I was in the middle of my third verse when I stopped abruptly.

"I had a really good time in New York. Eric and Jessica were great. Thanks for the trip."

He crossed his ankle over a knee and brought the guitar to his lap. "I'm glad. I figured you'd kick a fit and punch me in the junk when I got there for sendin' you off to charm school."

I scoffed. "Charm school. Pssh, you'd have to send me to a four year college to resemble anything remotely _charmin'_."

"Well, you looked good for pictures. Maybe I can get a person in to teach you how to be nice to reporters and stuff."

I lobbed my guitar pick at his head, rooted around in my case for another. "Ass. You still ain't figured out how to quit while you're ahead. Hey, you think it'd be possible to hire them. You know, for when we tour?"

"Eric and Jessica?"

"Obviously."

"Dunno. I can have Leah look into it this week."

I studied my fingernails. "I'd really like that."

"Then I'll make sure to ask." Without another word he launched into the tune I was just playing, worked it up to the spot I'd left off. There was a smile on his lips when he said, "Sing it for me again?"

We worked through it for a while more, haggled over some chord changes—and I won that battle, for a change—and tossed some lyrics around. He'd just started playing again when I stopped mid-chord.

Because, as we'd worked, something had been niggling at the back of my mind like a mosquito, and I was sick of it jabbing me every few seconds.

"If you want to change that lyric again, we can, but let's get through this part at least."

"I wasn't gonna say nothin' about that, thank you very much. I had a question."

"My, my. You're just talkin' up a storm today. What is it now?"

"I have to ask you about Tanya because it's driving me nuts."

He set his guitar down and closed his eyes, and then took a deep breath and opened them. "What about her?"

Everything in me wanted to look down, to pick at my nails or fiddle with my shirt, but I fought that urge and watched him for any reactions. "Were you seeing her, I mean, when we were separated?"

He stared at me for a beat, held my gaze and gave nothing away in his. "No. I worked with her. "

"Well, I got the impression it was more than that."

"And what gave you this impression?"

"She said as much. Or implied it, I guess. She wasn't exactly subtle in tellin' me to leave you alone and to get out of her way."

"Well, I can honestly say she's not gettin' any of that nonsense from me. Can't help it if she thinks I'm hot, though."

I picked up a wadded sheet of paper and hucked it at him; it hit him on the shoulder and bounced to the floor. "Thank goodness we're on the porch because the house isn't big enough for that ego."

"I don't have an ego," he mumbled.

I smirked—he did so. "So she was just fussin' at me—with no provocation—for no reason? Because, I gotta tell ya, that makes no sense to me."

"Since there needs to be clarification for this, I'll lay it out for ya plain and simple: I wasn't with Tanya. I haven't been with another woman since you, Bella. I don't know how else I can prove it to you so you'll just have to take my word."

As he spoke I watched his face, looked for any sign of a lie, but couldn't detect one.

His word.

Six months ago I wouldn't have thought much of his word, but today . . . well, today was a different story.

I pulled my leg up to my chest and rested my chin on my knee. "Well, she gave me an earful about doin' you wrong. Was wonderin' what version of the story she got."

He crossed his arms, and I could see him working at keeping his temper even. "Wasn't from me. I work with her, I've talked to her a few times but not about anything all that personal. Don't like people knowin' my business all that much. Maybe she got something from Jake—they hooked up a couple of times."

That made my ears perk. "She was with Jake? Lord above, I knew there was something wrong with her . . ."

Edward snorted. "There's the girl I know. Yeah, on and off. You know he never really says with anyone for too long."

"Ah, so she used Jake to get to you."

"How'd you come to that conclusion?"

I shrugged. "Female intuition."

"If you say so, but it never happened."

"Trust me, women know these kinds of things. Jake hookin' up with her is just par for the course."

He fingered the frets on his guitar absently. "I know that y'all don't get along, but why, exactly, is it that you and Jake are so ornery with each other? Used to think it was just your personalities, but I'm startin' to wonder if it ain't more than that?"

The new color I had applied to my fingernails only yesterday was starting to lift, and picked at my thumbnail.

"He's not a very nice person, Edward. He never once was nice to me after you and I got together, always made snide comments or mean jokes when you weren't in the room. He's jealous of me for whatever reason, like I took his best friend away or something. And I know you either couldn't, or wouldn't, see it because you two have been friends so long, but he didn't like me bein' with you, and he tried to pick us apart."

He scratched his head tiredly. "Why the fuck wouldn't you tell me that he was bein' such a dick to you? I would'a told him to cut that shit out."

"I did, at first. It was really bad after we all got to New York. You were busy a lot and when I'd come to the studio or go to gigs with you guys, he'd make sure you were occupied before he started. But I didn't make a big enough deal of it, I guess. Dunno, maybe I should have, but I didn't want you to think I was just bein' a nag."

"You put up with his shit just to keep the peace? Why?"

"I didn't want to disrupt what you guys had goin' on and I thought I could handle it."

His anger rose and he began to get loud. "Clearly you couldn't. You let him harass him and piss you off, and that all boiled over onto our relationship! Because you internalized it the way you do and took it out on me. And that's bullshit." "

"I didn't _let_ him do anything!"

"But by doing that, by not telling me and thinking you could handle all of this, it eventually got to you and turned toxic. And you ended up being angry with me about it."

I pursed my lips, considering. It wasn't fair on my part, but I guessed in some way I did hold him responsible for that. For not paying enough attention to notice when his friend had stepped over the line of annoying into downright insulting. "That might'a been part of it."

He groaned and rubbed his hands over his face harshly. "You were pissed off at me because I wasn't there enough for you. I wasn't there to keep him out of your face."

Yet again, one of our conversations had moved into uncomfortable territory, and I had no qualms that our shouting would bring my daddy out to the sun porch faster than a fox. Because here was more than one truth to it, and looking at it from a different perspective than the one I was inclined to view it from . . . well, that was a bitter pill to swallow.

"Yes and no."

"Help me out here, I'm tryin' to understand."

I took a deep breath, looking for the right words. "Jake was a problem, but he wasn't the only one. There's so much that went wrong with us, Edward. It was like a boulder rollin' downhill, just collectin' hurts and angry words as it went."

My words made him sad; I could see it in the slump of his shoulders, the breath he expelled and didn't take back in right away. I opened my mouth to tell him I wasn't blaming him as much as I used to, that I was starting to see past my anger into the things I should have done, too, but my dad poked his head into the room just then.

"Is this ready yet?"

Edward looked out of the window while I watched my dad watching us. He had that no-nonsense look about him, and I knew he knew we weren't handling things like rational adults.

Putting my guitar aside, I said, "Guess we'd better eat now. We can get back to this later."

~o~

After the dishes were cleared, Edward and I took a walk down toward the dock with Sam in tow. The November air was unseasonably warm and I sat on the dock watching Edward throw the stick over and over for Sam. Each time he'd come out of the water, he'd stand too close and shake the droplets on to me.

My mind was back on the sun porch, though, and I didn't have a laugh for Sam like I would normally. I watched the light dance over the water instead, watched the color change from bright blue to golden yellow as the sun sank further in the sky.

When Sam had tired, Edward came and took a seat next to me, our knees close and feet dangling over the edge.

"I'm glad you invited me up here today. Didn't get a lot done, but I think it was something I needed. Hell, I think we both needed it."

The setting sun cast his face into weird patterns of bright and dark, and I squinted trying to make out his features. "Daddy was sure happy to see you."

"Yeah." He hesitated, and then said, "He was talkative on the boat, that's for sure."

"Really?" At his nod, I continued, "And, somehow, I don't think you're gonna tell me what he had to say."

"Nope."

I pulled a face but left it alone. His mood had lightened some, and while I wanted to pick our conversation up where it'd left off, I wasn't sure if I should. We'd get to them eventually, of that I had no doubt, but for now I was comfortable to sit on the dock with him and be restful. I turned my head and watched Sam find a small log and cart it onto the shore to chew. Edward chucked a stick he had been holding into the water; Sam raised his head for a moment and then went back to working on his log.

"You ain't gettin' his attention now. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, I know. Damn dog is as stubborn as you are."

"Probably."

I found a small pebble on the dock and chucked it into the water in front of me, watched the spreading ripples that it made.

"I've been thinkin'," Edward said. He took a deep breath and then leaned back on his hands. His face turned to mine and he waited until I was looking at him, too, before speaking again. "We need a clean slate, everything out on the table. And I mean everything."

"Where'sall this comin' from?"

"I think it's time we put some of our issues away so we can move forward. We keep dancin' around the small stuff when it's obvious there's things that need to be said."

Earlier, my thoughts were flowing faster than my mouth could move but now, being in the center of it all, I had no words.

But, he was right. We _were _dancing around subjects. Letting some in and through, leaving others that should have been easier to talk about out. It was a stupid dance, even more so than some of the newfangled ones I saw in the clubs we played, and it wasn't getting us anywhere.

"Jake is clearly something I should have listened to you about, and I'm so pissed off I could spit that I brushed it aside, but there's other things I know you have to say."

"I don't know where to start."

"What's the first thing that comes to mind?"

The thoughts were spinning fast as a merry-go-round. Prioritizing them with the correct emotions behind them was another matter. So I went with the hardest one, and hoped the rest would be easier. "You left me."

I saw him flinch, and felt like I was the one who did so.

"Yeah, I did. I'm not proud of that, but I just didn't know what else to do at the time. You were so depressed and my bein' there didn't seem to help none. Couldn't hold you, couldn't comfort you. It was a void, and I wasn't equipped enough to handle it at the time."

"You leavin' . . . I hear you, now. I get what you're sayin'. But it hurt, Edward. My heart was already broken, and that just took the pieces that were left and crushed them."

"I guess . . . I guess I just looked at it as a way to give you what you seemed to want, which was to be alone. I had work, commitments to keep. I chose to do that instead, to provide a life for us while you sorted out what you wanted."

My eyes filled with tears, and I swiped them away. "What about your commitment to me?"

"I swear to God, Bella, I tried everything I could before I decided to leave. Bringin' my family and the counselor in was sort of this last-ditch effort thing, but I didn't know how else to fix it."

"That's the thing. You didn't need to _fix_ anything. I just needed you to be there."

"And I was. As long as I could be."

"I don't buy that. You cooled your jets for a month and then you were off and runnin'. It's taken me over a year to get to where I can even talk about it."

"You mean after we lost the baby."

I was the one to flinch this time. "We didn't lose the baby, I did."

He grabbed my hand, used our fingers to brush away my tears. "Don't do that. Don't. That's way too much to put on yourself, and it doesn't even make sense."

I watched out hands drop to the dock, extracted mine carefully so I could ball it in my lap. My fingers flexed as I breathed in and out, my body shook with the effort. "It was my body," I whispered. "Something was wrong with me."

My reaction seemed to set something off in him. His hands shook, too. "There isn't anything wrong with you. It didn't happen, and I can't begin to fathom how much I wish it was different, but that line of thinkin' is bad, Bella."

"You don't understand,"I started, and then stopped. My throat was scratchy, dry, and the words hurt too much, anyway.

"Try me."

I looked back out at the water, over at the tree line, down to Sam. Anywhere but at him.

"I felt . . . it made me feel like less of a woman. Like I wasn't ever going to be everything you wanted."

Remembering those awful first few months hurt. Even to this day, some of those thoughts still lingered. Less than before, sure, but there were times they popped up, and those were the days that were the hardest to get through. For months after, I'd spent my days in the nursery that was too bright to be comforting, Sam and my guitar at my side while I tried to figure out how to move forward.

Edward pulled my face around to meet his, kept his hand on my cheek. Seeing his eyes shiny, too, broke the dam and I let out a sob.

"Shh. Shh, sweetheart. Don't do that. How could you even think that?"

"I don't know. I just do."

And then I was in his arms, and even though my body stiffened at first, the comfort I'd wanted for so long was enough to make me not want to bolt. He smelled the same as he always did, sunshine and cotton and a dash of the bar-soap he preferred. His arms were as strong as ever, the chest my head rested against just as solid, and my shoulders shook with regret and sobs and everything else I'd wanted to get out for the past year.

For the moment, that was where I needed to be.

If we were going to move on, for both our sakes, it was time to let some this go and sew up the wound so things had time to heal properly.

My tears darkened his t-shirt, but he didn't seem to mind much. He only held me tighter, shushing nonsense words into my hair and rocking me back and forth. I couldn't help but think about the life we had planned, the prospect of that baby and him and me just one big happy family. Hopes and dreams that were dashed on the rocks, and I cried harder still.

After a while the tears subsided, my breathing returned to normal. Edward's heart beat under my ear, the pace of it calming me. With a stuffy nose, I sniffled and raised my head to look at him.

His face was pensive, eyes distant and focused far on the water. His thoughts were a million miles away, though, and I waited until he looked down at me to smile tentatively at him and let him know that I felt a little better, now.

With my mind free of the emotional clutter, I thought about my dad. He was probably wetting himself watching from the house and that made me snort.

"What's so funny?" he asked without letting go.

"I was just thinking about what my dad is doing right now."

Edward turned his head to look at the house. "Oh, yeah. He just ducked out from the kitchen window."

"Thought so."

Reluctant to do so, I took that moment to move away from him and sit up straight. His hand passed behind me, moved my hair over my shoulder. It was comforting, nice, and I sniffled again.

"I know some things don't last forever, Bella Marie, but I just don't want you _gone_ from my life."

Staring at him was a little easier, and I did. His face had changed over the years, lost some of the youthful adorableness and turned handsome. Baby fat of seventeen or lean ruggedness of mid twenties, his face would forever be etched into my heart.

"We'll figure something out."

He stood then, offering me a hand up so we could head back into the house. I kept my arms crossed at my chest, trying to avoid Sam hopping around as we walked up the hill.

Charlie was sitting in his recliner, glasses perched on his nose. "You guys ready for some pie yet? I've been waitin'."

"You didn't have to wait on us, Daddy."

"I want to spend some time with you before y'all leave."

So after I'd washed my face we ate pie and talked about local goings-on, and my dad and Edward talked about some new line of reels Bass Pro Shop had out. We were slow getting our things gathered to load up the car and all the while my dad kept drawing Edward into conversations and delaying our departure just a little longer.

"We should probably go, dad." I hugged him something fierce before we headed out the door.

The ride back was silent, soft music playing on the radio. The ride was free of chatter, but not uncomfortable—we'd just gotten all our words out for the day, and were content to just be silent. Sam slept in the backseat, and when we arrived back at my house, I lingered in the front.

"Thank you, again, for comin' out there with me."

Edward turned his head leaning against the seat rest to look at me. His eyes were soft, kind, and the smile he gave me was one for the picture books. "Think it was something we both needed."

He leaned across the console then, his eyes asking permission. I moved ever so slightly, closed my eyes when his hands cupped my cheek and his lips met mine softly. It was just a little kiss, a mere brushing of mouths, but there was so much behind it. Respect, understanding, and a love that once was. I touched his forehead with mine and pulled back, opening my eyes to watch his face.

He moved away, a small smile on his face. "Talk to you this week?"

"Yeah, I'd like that."

* * *

~o~

* * *

_So many of you take the time to give kind thoughts and words about this story. Keep it coming and I may be able to give you something in return soon. *wink*_

_Song- True Love Way – Kings of Leon_

_And thank you nicnicd for making me obsessed with SoA. And for your glittery edits. xo_


	15. Chapter 15

_**Birds of a Feather**_

_**Chapter Fifteen**_

_**BPOV**_

Outside the kitchen window, Sam moved through the yard sniffing at his usual spots before moving on to the next. I shook my head at him—damn dog was the pickiest creature I'd ever known. Watching him was a nice break from my nerves, though, so as my fingers drummed on the counter while I waited for the coffee to finish brewing, I tried to clear my mind of all the extraneous details.

Try as I might, I still kept returning to the vision of clothes strewn across my bed, half in and half out of garment bags. It wasn't a nightmare involving a shopping spree—it was reality. At that very moment, clothes the label and PR people had sent over were cluttering my bedroom for the release party later that evening.

Despite the nerves, I _was_ looking forward to it. It was the culmination of months, heck, years of, hard work on me and the girls' part, and it was real exciting to find out how we were going to be received.

My phone rang, and I turned around to answer it.

"Good afternoon, Alice."

"My, don't you just sound chipper. Is everything okay?"

I turned from watching Sam and grabbed a banana, unpeeling it and leaning back into the counter. "Shut it, missy. I'm just stressin' about what to wear."

"How could you possibly worry about that? I know for a fact you got the same package from Leah that Rose and I got, and if your haul was half as good as ours, you've got some prime pickin' to be done."

"That's the problem. Everything is great. I have too many choices." I took a bite of my banana, mumbled, "I'm not you."

"So pick more than one thing. Wear one to the party, change into one for the showcase, wear another afterward. Might as well use all the clothes they sent."

"That's . . . well, that's not a bad idea. I love how your brain works."

"I do what I can. You should get to choosin', Bella. We've only got six hours until we have to be there."

This was so different than getting dressed for our usual, local gigs before we'd been signed. Back then I could wear jeans or a dress or shorts or even my Docs if I wanted to, and there was no pressure. Now it was something beyond my comfort level.

"Ugh. Don't remind me."

"Suck it up, buttercup. Something tells me you'll . . . um, figure it out soon. Hey, you know they've hired a car to take us there? We're apparently goin' in all sorts of fancy tonight."

With one more look at Sam, who was sprawled beneath a tree, I headed back toward my bedroom. "Huh. Think they'll take us through a drive-thru first? Maybe we can hang out of the sunroof like we did on prom night."

"Behave."

"I always do, taskmaster."

I pressed end on the call and stared at the plethora of clothes draped across my room. Alice was right—the pickings _were _primo, and with newfound energy, I began to sort through them to pick out three things I wanted to wear.

Later on, when I was mostly decided on my wardrobe—sort of—and taking a break from life, I sat down to cruise my favorite internet haunts. I found what I was looking for on YouTube, pressed play, and my eyes wandered to a stack of bills I'd piled on the kitchen table.

If there was one thing I'd not been prepared for when I reached adulthood, it was how often bills rolled into my mailbox. It was a neverending cycle, and I sighed and pulled the stack toward me. Sam had come back in and was snoring on the floor beside me. I snorted thinking that I was the picture of single girl gone boring.

At the bottom of the stack, a thick pile of papers caught my eye. I pulled the divorce papers out and flipped through them absently. They didn't give me the same angry feeling they used to and didn't feel as heavy in my hand as they once did.

There was a knock at my door, then, and I left the papers on the table and went to see who was at my door. Sam was barking when I got to there, stance defensive and wary. I did a double take. "Whoa, boy. You tryin' to get extra treats for finally doin' your job?"

Through the window, I spotted two figures, and the fact that they were there made my day instantly better.

"Good Lord almighty, What're y'all doin' here?" I said, throwing open the front door and shushing my dog.

Eric, armed with his tacklebox of wonders , took one look at my ensemble of bathrobe, ratty t-shirt and sweats, and shook his head. "Obviously we're here for a fashion emergency."

I looked around outside behind them. "No cameras, I hope."

Jessica laughed. "Don't worry, we're camera-free today."

Immediately thankful I'd been in the mind to clean yesterday, I ushered them inside and sent Sam to the backyard. He wasn't being mean, not really, but strangers made him excitable.

"I like it in here. Understated, dramatic. It . . . fits," Eric said.

"Oh, yeah. Thanks." I took a seat on the arm of the couch. "What are you guys really doin' here? I mean, not that I'm not thrilled to see you, but . . . wow. Quite the surprise."

"Big, important party tonight. You forget?"

I laughed at Eric. "Definitely didn't forget. I'm sorta, kinda almost decided on what to wear, though."

Jessica sat on the couch beside me. "And that's why we're here."

I looked between them. "How?"

"Leah set it up. Said she'd heard you'd requested our services if it was possible, and the decision was made that we could come help you out tonight."

I remembered telling Edward how much I'd liked working with these two, was glad he'd passed that along to Leah. "She's a hardass, but, damn, I think I love that girl."

"Us too, but right now you need to get in the shower, sweetie. We've got to make you look damn good in just a few hours."

"I'm so happy y'all are here I won't even pay attention to the hidden insult there," I said, standing. "Help yourselves to anything you want from the kitchen."

After assuring myself that they would be in attendance at the party, too, I hopped in the shower as instructed, taking the time to chill out now that I knew I wouldn't be responsible for looking picture perfect myself.

It took just under three hours—and the company couldn't be beat—until I was coiffed and spackled, and feeling like the prettiest disco ball ever. I turned in the mirror, inspecting the silver, sequined dress from all sides. Jessica and Eric weren't the only surprise teams being dispatched that night, and they'd all coordinated via pictures and texts to make sure Alice, Rose and I wouldn't clash.

"We haven't even hit it big, yet, and I feel like a star," I said.

"You're a star, baby," Eric replied. "In everyone's eyes. Go kill it tonight, girl. Show them what you're made of."

The words were sweet, bolstering, and they made the last of my nerves float away like cotton in the wind.

~o~

There was a flurry of squealing and carrying on when the limo arrived to pick me up. Alice and Rose looked fan-freaking-tastic, and their excitement was at near fever pitch. For that matter, mine was, too, and there was a definite difference between our last limo ride and this one.

Because, this time, I celebrated alongside them . . . and partook in the champagne chilling in the backseat.

"You guys," I said, giggling because bubbly always got to me that way. "This is actually happening."

Rose, whose red dress was cut _way _lower than mine, sat next to me. "I know, it's insane."

"You don't think it's too much hullabaloo for a first record?"

"Hush now," said Leah from the far bench. "Hullabaloo is what the music business is about. There'll be a lot of people there tonight wanting to see what Edward and Jasper have come up with, and you're the ones they're making their debut with. We've got to show you ladies off in style."

Even through the beginning of my buzz, I recognized that her words were spot on. The guys were stars in their own rights in the business; of course people would be looking at what they put out as a sign of what they had up their sleeves. My nerves came back at this realization, too.

Edward and I, well, we were getting along now. And I realized that I did want to help him in achieving a good buzz for his and Jasper's label the same way he'd been helping me get my music out there.

Rose set her empty glass on the small bar. "I'm with her. Our crossover appeal is going to be huge. Mark my words."

"It's good that you're not opinionated or anything."

Leah gave me a measured look, probably noted that my nerves had returned. "Let's run over the schedule for tonight, yeah? Photos first, then cocktails and schmoozing, and then you girls will put on a four song set . . ."

Her voice faded to the back as I watched the faces of my beloved friends and tried to calm my nerves yet again.

~o~

The party was being thrown at a lavish horse farm on the outskirts of Nashville. Hanson Farms was gorgeous, with plenty of space for a stage setup and a full party setup on the sprawling lawns. Our arrival there was a bit of a blur; the entrance was lit with tons of tiny lights stretched along the long, white fenced drive, and the cars everywhere made navigating us to the front door a bit like an obstacle course.

Plus, we were tipsy.

Whoever had planned the party had gone to great lengths to make it tasteful-country. Fluffy blooms of hydrangea and greenery were all over the place, white tablecloths and rustic touches here and there. The stage was set off to the side and in front of a dance floor, and draped with even more white lights.

. . . come to think of it, it sort of looked like my wedding, only a lot more professional and expensive.

From the time we arrived we were whisked from group to group for introductions and congratulations, and I had a feeling that more than one of the photographers rolling around were there for press. Jasper and Edward were there sometimes, and sometimes it was just Leah. My mouth hurt from smiling so damn much. Our music played on repeat in the background, and I was glad I'd at least gotten to drink in the limo because there was hardly time to get another drink before we had to shimmy into outfit number two.

Eric, Jessica, and the rest of the stylists were waiting in a makeshift tent behind the stage to get us dressed and touched up, and Leah ran around with a clipboard barking orders at everyone.

"This is scary," Alice said, smoothing her dress over and over. "Does this make my butt look big?"

"Please," Rose scoffed. "You don't have a butt to speak of."

I adjusted the strap of my guitar and snickered.

And then we were on stage and there was so many people standing around and seated in tables that I wanted to cry. I squinted around the bright lights, was momentarily blinded, and then saw my dad standing off to the side of the floor. I waved to him discretely, adjusted the mic in front of me. "Thank you. Thank y'all for comin' out to see us. We really appreciate it."

And then, seeing all the eyes focused on us, I froze.

Rose, used to the way big crowds sometimes made me anxious, took over like it was planned.

"We're real thankful to y'all for bein' here with us tonight, and we're gonna play for you in just a minute, but first we should say a little thank you to the people in our corner on this project. We've got an amazin' team behind us on this album, and we can't be any more blessed to have been discovered by them. So thanks to our bosses . . . and enjoy the show, folks."

I looked down at my guitar and thanked the Lord for Rose and her smooth cut-in, and then noticed Edward when I looked back up after I'd gotten my wits about me.

He stood just behind my dad and surrounded by a bunch of guys in suits . . . and he was staring at me with the most worried expression on his face. Thoughts of how important this was for him, how worried I'd been in the limo thinking about how he needed this night to go well hit me.

I could do this; heck, I'd done it plenty of times before. I focused on his face, focused on my daddy, too. Not wanting them to think I was going to screw this up, I flashed a small smile in their direction and strummed my guitar, and then began the countdown into our first song.

The girls and I soared and we flew, we twirled and we sang and we played until our fingers hurt, but we did a damn fine job. It was easier to focus just above the crowd, to look at the tree branches that hung down and pretend I was singing to them instead of a lawn full of people I didn't really know. My voice got stronger with each song, clear as a bell as we rounded down into the final notes of our last song.

When the sounds of us died down, the applause that followed made my stomach squeeze in the best sort of way. The reception surprised me, made me feel like we'd really made it. We were ushered offstage and back into the tent, and into our third outfit of the evening.

This time I was allowed to wear jeans and a great little leather jacket, and boots that didn't hurt my feet.

There was a small bar set up near the back, and when we were free to go, I made my way there. My mouth was dry as the desert after all that singing, and when I had a glass of Prosecco in my hand, I felt a little better.

The trees over the bar had been strung with old mason jars and yet more white lights, and I saw Leah when I turned around standing in a large group. Rose had rushed to be with Emmett, Alice had hightailed it to somewhere, too, so I stood next to Leah, and accepted the congratulations from faces I didn't know and ones I dimly recalled meeting earlier.

"This turned out amazin'," I said when I got close enough to her. "Was this your doin'?"

She shrugged. "I can't take all the credit. Edward had a big hand in it, I just took care of the details."

I stared at her. "Edward?"

That seemed a little bit out of his scope of duties. Songs and records, sure, but more than handing in a guest list?

"Yes indeed. He didn't pick out the flowers, now, but when he came to me, wanted to make sure it was a night you and the girls would never forget."

"Well," I said, taken aback. "It's definitely in the top five, I can tell you that."

"Speaking of . . ."

At her words I looked to my right, the direction she was looking. Edward was approaching us, a relaxed, easy smile on his face as he got stopped by people clapping him on his back. I'd not really got to say anything to him tonight that didn't involve introductions, so I drained my glass and set the empty flute on a passing waiter's tray.

He walked up and addressed Leah directly. "Can I steal her for a few?"

"Sure thing, boss. I've got some things I need to check on, anyway."

He laughed. "Yes, your work is never done. You keep remindin' me of that, makes me think I don't pay you enough."

She grinned, waved with her fingers, and took off, tossing a, "Your girls kicked ass, by the way," over her shoulder as she went.

"That they did." His smile was still there, and up close, I could see the loopiness of it. Edward was buzzed. "Thought you were gonna choke for a minute there, sweetheart. 'Bout scared me half to death."

"Oh, hush. I didn't choke." I turned back to the bar and ordered something harder than wine. It was my party, time to have fun. "I totally handled it."

"I know you did," He said quietly and threw his arm over my shoulder, waiting until I had my drink. "C'mon, there's someone important I want you to see."

His arm was warm, familiar, and seeing as how he was buzzing and I was having a good time, I didn't think much on the closeness of his body, how easily I fit into his side, how our steps were matched as we strolled through the crowds.

Well, I thought about it a little.

"Who're you takin' me to meet? I've met so many people already tonight, I can't promise I'll remember even half of the names tomorrow."

"Don't worry abbot that. This is someone you already know."

I turned to watch his face, saw that his chin was held high and there was an excitement that seemed to course through him. His eyes scanned the crowd, settled on a table near the back hidden by a large group of people standing in front of it.

And then someone shifted and I saw her stand up. My step faltered, my breathing picked up, and she walked forward to greet us.

"Esme."

It had been so long since I saw her. Her hair was shorter now, no longer hanging down her back in a braid. The hurt of losing her was one of the things I'd been the most upset about when Edward and I hit the skids. And I had no idea what to say to her now.

She'd always been a fierce mother, always there for her kids and their friends, too. I'd been a part of that group, had loved the female attention I lacked at my own home. My own mother was too flighty to stay in one place for long, and I was okay with that, mostly. The abandonment wasn't the easiest thing to deal with all the time, but I'd learned to appreciate my dad all the more for it.

But, Esme, she'd been a balm to that absence. And when I'd gotten into it with Edward, as much as I known she'd loved me, he was her child first and foremost. And from what I knew now, he'd been hurting more than I thought. I'd understood _why _she'd taken sides even if I hadn't agreed with it.

"Hello, Bella." She hesitated, too, and then wrapped her arms around me.

My breath caught as she hugged me, positively choked up when her arms got tighter and tighter. My eyes closed, tears welled up, and I returned her hug. "You were wonderful on that stage tonight," she whispered into my ear. "And as pretty as a picture."

Overcome with emotion, I nodded and drew back from her. Her fingers brushed my bangs from my eyes, framed my face for just a second, and she drew back, too.

There were things to be talked about, but I thought that maybe, just maybe, she didn't hate me.

Carlisle stood behind her, and I moved away from Esme to hug him, too.

"Hello, Bella. You girls sounded amazing tonight."

"Thank you."

There was a touch at my back, the lightest of, and I turned my head to see Edward behind me, a smile on his face and a proud tilt to his chin.

"The girls and I have a no surprise rule I need to tell you about," I whispered.

He chuckled and kept his hand at my back, saying over my shoulder, "They were fantastic. Good buzz in the crowd, I'm expectin' some good write-ups for them when the album releases. Couple of the industry mags want to do features."

Edward and his dad devolved into business jargon and I tuned out, looked back to Esme. She was watching me with a look on her face I couldn't put my finger on, but she didn't seem angry.

"This party is for you, so I don't want to keep you, but it was important I tell you how proud I am of what you girls have accomplished."

"I'm real glad you came," I said quietly. I'd known she'd be there, of course. Her kids were, after all, involved in this just as much as me, but I hadn't known I would speak to her. "It's been a long time. I—"

"You and I have a lot of catchin' up to do, but not tonight, sweetheart. And we can do that when you're ready."

More than her praise or well wishes, those words were far more important to me than any assurances I'd heard from Alice and Edward along the way. We'd had our differences, and they were strong ones, but now it seemed like she wanted to meet me somewhere in between.

"We'll do that. I promise."

Rose had moved into our group during that time, and at her light touch on my elbow I grabbed Esme's hand, squeezed it, and turned to my friend.

"Hey, sweet cheeks. Where'd you go?"

She held up a beer. "Stuffy city boy over there forgot to order enough kegs, so I had Emmett make a run."

Edward heard her, turned in her direction, and shot her a look. "Sorry 'bout that. Thought the topshelf liquor and seven kegs would be good enough."

"Son, you're from here, you should know better."

I laughed. "She's got a point."

Edward muttered something about ungrateful females and spun to talk to Jasper and Alice, who, I'd noticed, had been keeping mighty close to each other as the night wore on.

"Yeah, I see it, too," Rose said. "Hey, you up for an encore? These people need to see how we party."

I peered out at the crowd. Some of the older folks had gone home and there were a lot less suits in attendance. Best I figured, they'd split after the showcase to go back to their swanky hotel rooms. And I was okay with that because the partygoers left in attendance were younger and friends and family, and therefore it'd be a lot easier to cut loose and play for them. "Oh, absolutely."

She turned to walk back toward the stage but I grabbed her hand, whispered, "Wait," and motioned Edward over.

"What's up?"

"We're going to play again if that's okay?"

"I don't think it'll be a problem. You sure, though? The party is for you guys to enjoy."

"I think you know better'n anyone enjoyin' yourself onstage is the best kind of party to be at."

He smiled. "Yeah, that I do."

"Do . . . um, do you and Jasper want to join us? I mean, we could do more material from the album, maybe some of the stuff we've been messin' around with."

There were some nights that our studio time had been more jam session than work. We'd all sit around and play songs from other bands, things the guys had written, some of the stuff the girls and I had kept off the album. The question had been an impulse, and I shifted my feet while I waited on his answer.

I mean, he could always say no, that he had more important things to do.

"I think we could make that happen. Let me ask Jasper."

Fifteen minutes later we were all parked in the tent behind the stage and arguing over what we were gonna play.

Alice leaned forward and said, "Why don't y'all play that duet you were working on way back. Folks'll love that one. We can fill in where you need."

I looked at Edward. "What d'you think?"

He was already watching me. "Not a bad idea."

And so we went onstage and played a mix of songs. Stumbled around and laughed a lot more than we had in a long while. Our duet was well-received and sounded so good with a full band that even I was impressed, and I'd written half of it to start with. The crowd was wild, more like a local show than the set we'd played earlier, and the alcohol we devoured in between songs was smooth and easy. The euphoria of a successful evening piled on top of all the rest, and eventually my head hit the clouds.

~o~

"I think I'm drunk."

I peered at Rose, head down on the table beside me and hair pulled into a loose ponytail. The party had cleared out and there were only a small handful of people left at the farm. Those left were going hard, though. The girls and I were gathered around a table by ourselves.

Alice placed her hands on my shoulders. "Mind if I snag the limo?"

"What are you up to?"

Her eyes sparkled. "What do you think?"

Beyond her shoulder, Jasper lurked in the shadows. He was talking to Leah but his eyes weren't leaving the spot Alice stood.

"You little am I s'posed to get home? Rose know?"

"Do I know what?"

"About Alice stealin' our ride so she can go get her some."

Rose laughed, then made a face. "Yeah, I already heard. 'Bout time."

"Someone will take you guys home. They're not just gonna leave you here to sleep it off."

"Suppose so. But don't be all moony next time I see you."

She rolled her eyes, and I figured that was all the answer I was gonna get from her. "Be safe," I said, but she was already gone. "Isn't that about some shit?"

Rose put her head on the table, rolled it until she was looking at me over her crossed arms. "Please. He's been pantin' after that for years. Guess she decided to let him in."

"You're so crude."

"You love it. Hey, where's Emmett? I'm ready to dance."

"Um . . ." I looked around the party, spotted Emmett in a conversation with Eric and Jessica, and caught his attention.

If anything, I could always see if Eric and Jessica could take me home.

Emmett came and got Rose moving again just as Edward showed up carrying two drinks. He set one in front of me and took a seat at the table. "Where'd everyone go?"

I took a sip of the drink he'd brought, grimaced at the taste of vodka. "You really want to know?"

His eyes scanned the room. "Jasper and my sister?"

"Bingo."

"'Bout damn time."

"Why does everyone keep sayin' that? I mean, doesn't it bother you?"

He took a sip of his drink and fiddled with the band of his watch. "Nope. He's been keen on her forever. Either it'll work or it won't."

"That's quite pragmatic of you."

"I've learned a thing or two over the years," he said winking at me. "Guess you need a ride home?"

I eyed his drink. "Everyone seems to have scattered. You okay to drive?"

"I'm workin', Bella. This is only my second drink tonight."

"Oh. Okay, then. If you don't mind, I'll take you up on that offer."

"Let me know when you're ready."

Even though the night had wound down, part of me wasn't ready to turn in just yet. The DJ they'd hired for the evening was still doing his thing even though it was only bare bones now. The revelers left were cutting a rug out on the parquet floor.

"You wanna dance?"

Turning my attention back to him, I cocked my head and stared at him. The pull was there, more insistent than I wanted it to be, and I didn't know if it was the drinks or the leftover excitement of the evening.

"What, your card all filled up?"

"No," I said, laughing. "That thing is wide open."

"What're we waiting for, then?"

And then he'd grabbed my hand and pulled me up, with a song playing that seemed well suited to a two-step. It took a few awkward starts, but eventually I fell back into sync with him and he spun me around the floor.

"I almost forgot how to do this."

"No you didn't. It's like falling off a bike."

"Yeah, well that hurts, too," I said.

Emmett twirled Rose around us at some point, and her smile was so wide and content that it made me smile, too.

The next song was a slow one, and I felt the hesitation in Edward's hands as he pulled me into him. I stepped closer, didn't give myself time to think about what I was doing, and it was almost fluid the way his body fit to mine, or how I automatically tucked my head into his neck.

And it was nice. He smelled so damn good, felt just like I remembered. We'd danced this way a hundred times, been this close more. Closer, even. So close there was no beginning and no end.

We swayed to a few verses of the song before my breath caught in my throat and my stomach flipped. I lifted my head, took a step back. "I think… I think I'd like to go now."

His lips formed a thin line. "Okay."

My things were still in the staging area, and I went to grab them. Along the way I noticed Jessica was already gone and Eric was leaning against the bar talking to someone tall and cute. Rose and Emmett were nowhere to be found, and slowly the party was dispersing. Edward was in front of the stage when I came back, and he took my guitar from me and walked silently alongside me to his SUV.

He helped me into the truck yet again, crossed around the front to head to the driver side. I watched him as he walked, noticed the high set of his shoulders, the smooth, sure walk that he'd had for as long as I could remember. God, he looked good.

And it was stupid. Dumb. I told myself over and over that the things I was thinking, that the way my body felt, was a fire I didn't want to touch. I'd had a lot to drink and been too long without touch. But that last dance . . . that last dance had made my heart beat in a way it hadn't in a very long time.

I was tense—not angry, not at all, but somehow anticipatory. And second guessing myself on all fronts.

Then he was in the car and turning on the heat, reaching in his back seat and then handing me a jacket.

"Until the car warms up?"

Truthfully, I hadn't noticed the cold much. My clothes were warm and the alcohol helped, too. But I took the jacket anyway, slung it over my shoulders. The warmth _was _nice, though, but the smell of it was better. It brought back memories long buried, a yearning that I wasn't at all sure how to handle. I breathed deep.

The drive was silent, and after a while I stopped staring out of the window and turned my head to watch him instead. He drove one handed, the way he'd always done, other hand dropped down in between us on the arm rest. After a few minutes he smiled, turned to look at me for a second, too.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Why you starin' at me, then?"

"Because I can."

"I'll remember that excuse." He flipped on his blinker, turned onto my street.

"Thank you."

He turned into my driveway, shut off the engine. "For what?"

"Everything. The record, the support, this release party tonight. You've done so much for us, and I'm just grateful. And I need you to know that."

The car was toasty warm but I had no desire to give up his coat, and none to get out just yet, either.

"I'd do it again in a heartbeat." He smiled and leaned his head back against the seat rest, rolling it until he was looking at me. "In fact, I'd do anything for you."

The words were delivered softly, with purpose, and though I told myself it was time I diffused the situation with a wry joke or snarky comment, I couldn't bring myself to ruin the intent of his words.

So I stared back at him, smiled, and grabbed the handle of the car door. He followed suit and got out to retrieve my guitar.

While I searched my bag for my keys, he stood behind me at the front door. I found my keys , turned to say goodnight, and came face to face with Edward.

He hesitated before he handed me my guitar and said, "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Edward."

He turned and headed for the car, and all the while my brain and my heart were duking it out because one wanted me to call him back, and the other said I couldn't handle it.

"Fuck it."

"Huh?" I said

And then he was back on the porch and his hands were in my hair, and his face was so close to mine I couldn't move.

His features, so, so perfect to me, were torn, and yet not. They held a touch of something incendiary, something that'd burn me if I held too tight, and I just didn't care right then. Because all I saw was him: the boy I fell in love with years ago; the fella who'd asked for my hand; the man he'd become.

There were things to say, questions to ask, but words failed me. All I wanted to do was kiss him, and so I did, reaching on my tiptoes and fusing my lips to his.

~o~

* * *

_Your reviews are beyond anything I could have imagined. xo_

_Song - Kissed you – Gloriana_

_Thank you, nic. xo _


	16. Chapter 16

_**Birds of a Feather**_

_**Chapter Sixteen**_

_**BPOV**_

Decisions were funny things. Sometimes they were gradual, reached only after soul searching and lots of contemplation. Sometimes they were impulsive, set into action in the heat of the moment and not always practical. I liked to think I was a practical sort of girl, that I made my decisions with time and thought and history behind them.

Conveniently, my mind cleared of all things sensible the second Edward's lips touched my own. New and old feelings mixed together in harmony, jumpstarting my long-dead heart.

Like the perfect lyrics to a perfect song, Edward's body met mine evenly, fingers burying deep into my hair, lips and tongue a persistent, unbelievable rhythm. It had been so, so long, and I couldn't catalogue my thoughts and feelings so I didn't try to. Warm lips tasting faintly like whiskey slanted over mine, touching and rediscovering. I wrapped my hands around his waist, fisted the fabric of his jacket and got lost in the smell of his skin.

And, Lord, it was good. It was everything and nothing that I'd hoped for, because, before this night, I hadn't really thought about it at all. Hadn't allowed my heart of my brain to go down the path it was traipsing now. I didn't know why, didn't know how it worked after, but, just then, I didn't rightly care.

A car going down the street honked—no one's mama teach them manners anymore—and we broke apart slowly. Flushed and breathless, I closed my eyes when his forehead touched mine, clutched him a little tighter.

"Wow."

I smiled. "Yeah."

For the longest time, I'd been fighting it tooth and nail. Pushing it from my mind when warranted, ignoring it or playing it off as something else when I couldn't. There was no doubt now that something still existed between us, safe, yet frightening. Examining it just now would no doubt dampen the flames licking through my veins.

So instead I moved closer, focused on the way his breath blew against my cheek and the feel of his arms around me. It was familiar, nice, and when his lips met mine again all I could think about was that he excelled in knowing the way I liked to be kissed. All soft and slow, lingering touches of lips and slips of tongue, hands in my hair and pulling me into him.

When one of his hands moved down to my back, slipped between the fabric of my jacket and shirt to my skin, I shivered.

"Better get you inside. It's gettin' chilly out."

"I hadn't noticed." In a daze, I unlocked the door and pushed it ajar. "You comin' in?"

His eyes met mine, held like he was waiting for me to tell him I was joking, but there was no way that was going to happen. I pushed the door open wider, stepped over the threshold and held it for him.

"Sure."

He was the one to grab my things from the front porch, and while he went to sit my guitar case on the bench of the entry way, I kicked off my boots—something I was apt to do with any heel, no matter the height, once I got home—and stumbled in the process.

"Whoops," I muttered, laughing once because I was tipsier than I'd thought, and shed my jacket.

"You all right over there?"

"Uh huh. Just . . . y'know, tryin' to get out of all these clothes, but I'm feelin' a little clumsy."

The smirk was back, and I wanted to lick it. "Sweetheart, don't go gettin' undressed by the front door. What'll the neighbors think?"

I shut him up by kissing him again.

"You'd best get your mind outta the gutter, darlin'. I'm not gettin' naked," I said. "Just out of all this extra crap. C'mon, let's go get somethin' to drink."

I grabbed his hand and pulled him after me down the hallway feeling lightheaded and silly. We passed through the living room and Sam, asleep on his bed, woofed softly. Once he was out for the night, there wasn't much that could get his lazy butt up and raring to go, but when he saw Edward and me he thumped his tail.

"Hey, puppy dog," I crooned softly.

He ignored me in favor of Edward, who'd reached down to pet him. Sam rolled over, presented his belly for scratching, and I huffed.

"My boy," Edward said, giving up the tummy rubs.

"Aint that some shit? Like you don't get enough attention already, traitor."

"He's not stupid. Probably smells the liquor factory essence you've got goin', knows you won't be able to pet him without fallin' over."

"Oh, hush your mouth." Leaving them to it, I stepped into the kitchen and grabbed a tumbler. Mixing all these drinks would probably be hell on my head in the morning. But whatever. I poured a few fingers full into the glass. "What're you havin'? I've got beer and Black Label."

"I'll have what you're havin'."

The voice was closer than I'd expected, but distracted. I looked over to the entryway of the kitchen, stared at Edward leaning against the wall near the kitchen table. He looked good in my house. He was staring at the mess of papers and magazines, letter and my laptop that I'd left there earlier.

"Sorry about the mess. Jessica and Eric came over while I was tryin' to pay some bills."

"Huh?" He looked up, took the glass I handed him. "Oh."

I laughed and stepped into him, raised my glass. "Here's to givin' us girls a chance."

"To havin' faith in us to do you right."

His words caused my lips to twitch. "Cheers."

We clinked our glasses together and took a sip. The burn gave me courage as it slid down my throat.

"To a brilliant songwriting partner, who seems to bring out the best in everyone."

His lips formed a thin line. "To my other half of that duo who I couldn't do without."

Even in my altered state, the phrasing of the words were not lost on me. The look on his face was another story. Something, between the time he'd stopped to pet Sam and now, had taken some of the fun out of the evening, and I racked my brain and came up with nothing.

Desperate to bring the levity back, I smiled and put my hand on his waist. "Speakin' of, I've been writin'."

"Yeah?" I sang the beginning of the song, didn't even care that my voice was smoky and trashed after too much singing and alcohol.

_I've got this friend  
I don't think you know him_

He smiled. "I like that."

"Me, too."

"We should work on it some more."

"I was hopin' you'd say that." I laughed, shook my head. "Funny how I can't seem to write alone anymore. Guess you'll have to keep on lendin' me your brain."

Perhaps if my lips weren't loose, I wouldn't have said it, but it was the truth and I wanted him to know it. The whole process, us girls signing, him giving me hell, he and I working through our differences through work, had been good for me. A balm for the scar tissue. Placing my glass down, I pressed my body to his, put my hands on his chest.

His hands touched my chin, angled my face up to look at him. His eyes were so serious; prettier than Alice's, but maybe that was me being partial.

"Whatcha starin' at me for?"

His lips quirked. "Because I can."

And then his lips were on mine again, searching for truths I held close to my heart, and I gave them away silently. I kissed the corners of his lips, wanted him to know I'd missed him. Wrapped my hands around his neck to let him know I appreciated him helping me find the part of myself I'd lost. Touched his tongue with mine and hoped he knew I cared about him even after all the pain.

It was so good to not only feel him pressed up against me, but to _feel _again. I'd pushed my mind to so many blank spaces over the past year, tried to forget what it felt like to be a part of his life, and it had left me empty and bitter and mean.

His lips left mine, traced a path down to the spot under my ear that no one but him knew my reaction to. It was the place where all things came undone, and I groaned and clutched him closer.

Fingers digging into his shoulder, moving around to his back to lift his shirt and touch him there, to hold on even as I felt my knees weaken. The clothes were an obstacle I wanted gone, too much space between us. My hands moved around his sides, slid over the skin of his stomach,

"Off."

"You sure 'bout that?" he asked, lips back at mine.

I bit at him lightly, went for his buttons. "Yes."

There should have been red flags. There were, maybe, but the overwhelming desire to have him under me or below me or even behind me was stronger.

He stopped kissing me, tipped my chin up, looked me in the eyes."With this?"

I nodded, eyes closing and face falling forward into his neck. I'd been waffling earlier, on the porch, but his kisses there had pushed me over my own line. The feel of him now had me forgetting about that line all together.

His neck was warm, and just right . . . there, and so I opened my mouth and tasted his skin, moved my hands to my front and started undoing buttons while I kissed and bit softly at his skin.

"C'mon," I said once I'd hit the last button. I stepped back, pulled at his hands to get him to follow me. "Let's go to bed."

His gaze was locked on my chest, and I smirked. Guessed some things never changed.

The steps to my bedroom were all hands and pauses, kisses against the wall and shedding of clothes. My heart beat a song, his lips were the words. We stumbled onto my bed sideways, stretched out and came back together all in the same breath.

Hands in my hair, wrapped around the nape and pulling my head back so his lips could move down to my stomach. I thought of the tattoo there briefly, the one that started where she'd been and ran around my back. Wondered if he noticed, what he thought.

And then there was the slightest touch of his lips against the inked skin, a sharp inhale of his breath before his hands clutched at my hips and his mouth moved lower.

And, God, it was so good. My heart felt like a drum against my chest, my thighs constricted and pulsed, and I sang out nonsense when he hit the spot I liked best. His used his fingers, too, knew how to make me move, and I clutched at his shoulders and tried to relearn the parts of him I'd been without.

He was over me, then, arms around me and rolling me on top, hands tracing and enticing. His body was the same, warm skin stretched over lean muscle, and I nipped and licked his chest, his stomach. Felt victorious when he groaned because I knew how to make him go wild, too.

I returned to his mouth, stomach tensing when he rolled us yet again, moved over me, settled between my legs. There was no hesitancy when he moved inside, and I gasped at the familiar stretch.

"Okay?"

"Yes."

Instead of moving, he stilled, and I knew he was giving me time to relax around him. I grabbed his face in the interim, kissed him sweet and slow until my hips moved under his.

My name was on his lips, our bodies came together and away like a chorus sung by two. I held onto his back, and started to move underneath him. His name was on my lips, then, movements turning frantic, hands grasping as he took it deeper, my fingers tugging at his hair as he rode harder.

He was the only person to ever touch me that way, and something inside me broke wide open knowing only he ever would.

Panting and spent, we rolled to the other side of the bed. His arms went around me, tucking me into the curve of his body. When his breath evened out I wrapped my hand over his on my stomach, and let the tears mingle into my sweaty hair.

~o~

Sleep didn't come easy, and while Edward dozed beside me my mind played overtime. The effect of the alcohol had lessened and I ran over what I would say to him when he woke.

Falling into bed had been easy, but, in hindsight, probably not the smartest thing. There were words to be spoken first, acknowledgments to be made. I had no idea if he was back for good, or if this was a goodbye of sorts. I knew what I hoped, of course, but Edward had played his cards close to his chest since he'd come back to town.

At times I thought he was saying that he wanted another try, hoped that his actions meant he was working to repair us. Other times, though, I thought he was trying to give a good resolution to our story, and, after what had happened, that possibility terrified me.

To allow myself to feel again, only to be tossed aside as I was before would end me.

I must have dozed off sometime after the sun started to come up because the movement of a body behind me persuaded me to open my eyes. The room was bright and I definitely remembered it being barely gray the last time I'd looked. I rolled over and watched him as he got up from the bed.

"Where you goin'?"

He bent to retrieve his jeans—the last item of clothing he'd lost—from the floor. "Have a conference call that I'd love to avoid, but can't."

His boots were near the door, and after he retrieved them, he sat on the bed to pull them on. His back faced me, and I reached out to trace the line of his spine.

Thoughts tumbled in my head too fast to pick which to start with. I loved him, wanted us to find a way to get back to each other. The loss of our baby, our marriage, our friendship was another set of words that would be harder.

With his boots on, he turned to look at me, face tightening as he took in the worry on my face.

"We . . . last night. We shouldn't have . . ."

At his angry look, my words trailed off, and I cursed myself for not being able to say the things I meant to in the right way.

I sat up and pulled the covers up around me, took a breath. "Edward, I didn't—"

He stood suddenly, cutting my words off and walking out of the door without a word.

I grumbled, standing, too, and went to my dresser to grab some clothes. I slipped into shorts and a t-shirt, and listened to him knocking around the kitchen.

"Edward," I called, stepping out of my bedroom. "I'm not done talkin' to you."

His response was the sound of the front door closing.

The kitchen was empty when I got there, and I stomped my foot and growled. Lord knew my words hadn't come out right, but he didn't even give me a chance to explain what I meant. When I got a hold of him, I was going to give him an earful about flying off the handle and walking away when he was upset.

Frustrated, I sat at the table, put my head in my hands. And then I noticed the spill of papers spread across the surface.

Yesterday, I'd picked them up, thought they weren't as important as they used to be. But in the clear light of day, they were heavier than ever because there was new ink slashed across the surface—the fresh signature of one Edward Anthony Cullen.

And, just like that, the record player that was my heart screeched to a jarring halt.

~o~

* * *

"Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation."  
― Kahlil Gibran

_Song – I've Got This Friend – The Civil Wars_

_Song - Tomorrow – Chris Young_

_Thank you to the best writin' partner ever. xo_


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